Fruta de la pasión
by Hetep-Heres
Summary: "Child challenge" : A woman arrives in Los Angeles with a child in tow who has surpising news for the Los Angelinos. Could it be that Don Diego, the most confirmed bachelor of the pueblo and a man above suspicion as far as women are concerned, finally had 'it' in him and had managed to keep such a big secret hidden?
1. Ch 1 - Leonor

_I've finally decided to tackle one of my own prompts / challenges, but with a slight twist here (as the woman isn't claiming anything here...)_

_The other prompts can be found here: ** new-world-zorro . livejournal 761 . html**_  
><em>and here : <strong> www . fanfiction topic  116120 / 76403695 / 1 / Let-s-try-some-challenges**_  
><em>(remove spaces)<em>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 1 - Leonor<br>**

It was the end of the afternoon and Los Angeles was busy, bustling with people and activity. Sergeant Mendoza was taking a break, sipping a well-deserved refreshment on the tavern's terrace while Victoria Escalante, the innkeeper, was pouring him another drink.

"A rather hot day, isn't it, Sergeant?" she asked him.

"It is indeed, Señorita", Mendoza answered, fanning himself with his handkerchief. "It must have been a good day for your business, with people needing to wet their whistle..."

"Not really, no. Surprisingly. I think people were too busy to come and spend some time in the tavern today..."

"Well, you can always count on my patronage, Señorita!"

Victoria stifled a laugh. Of course she can, what would he do without his daily – well, several a day, to be true – glass of whatever fortifying and comforting beverage she had in store!

"That I can, Sergeant, and I'm grateful for it as well as for your friendship!"

"And you know you'll always have the de la Vega's patronage too, of course," he added.

Victoria became a bit pensive. Yes, until a few weeks ago she often had Don Alejandro visiting her tavern at least once a day, sometimes even more – when he wasn't away on one of his many business trips, that is. And Don Diego often joined him too in the afternoon – he definitely wasn't a morning person – with Felipe in tow.

But lately, things had changed a bit. They visited the pueblo less often than before, and when they did, they didn't always stop at the tavern. Don Diego locked himself up in the _Guardian_'s office and Don Alejandro... well, Don Alejandro often reserved his visits to the graveyard and the church.

"Hum... not so sure about that, Sergeant. I haven't seen much of Don Alejandro lately, and Don Diego isn't really his usual carefree self anymore. And when they come to the tavern, I can see they are almost _forcing_ themselves to be cheerful... when they are not openly brooding, that is."

"Give them time, Senorita," Mendoza magnanimously told her. "They are grieving."

"I know, I know," she replied, "but it's been two months! They should... I don't know... go on... I mean, they didn't even _know_ him!"

"Precisely," Mendoza simply replied.

Victoria looked at him, puzzled.

"You see," the sergeant elaborated, "when you lose a beloved one, you're first hurting a lot, an awful lot, and then, as time goes by, you still mourn and suffer but you also think here and there of this or that good time you shared with that person, and then, when the grieving is over, you remain with all the good memories you have of him or her."

Victoria slowly nodded.

"Yes, I know that..."

Of course she did, Mendoza inwardly reflected.

"Well, you see," he went on, "when you lose someone you didn't have the time or the luck to know although you should have been close to them, you certainly can't mourn the loss of this person as much as you'd have if you'd really known them, but you don't have any of those memories to cherish either, and you grieve what wasn't. What didn't happen. You grieve this other life you could have had... a possibly happier life. You grieve the loss of what you never had and never will have."

Victoria remained speechless a few seconds. She would have never expected Mendoza of all people to be that insightful; but she remembered he had grown up in an orphanage and probably didn't remember his own parents. There was first-hand experience behind his speech.

"You are a very wise man, sergeant," she acknowledged. "I don't want to sound shallow or selfish, you know, but I just want Don Alejandro to be his usual cheerful and happy self."

"Si, I want this too, Señorita." He then looked at her and sent a playful wink in her direction. "All the more so that he is far more disposed to offer a drink to his friends when he is in a good mood!"

"Oh, Sergeant!" Victoria falsely scolded him.

They both burst out laughing. He took out his handkerchief again to dab at his forehead.

At the same time Don Diego finally came out of the _Guardian_'s office with a thick envelope under his arm. He looked toward the tavern, and the sound of Victoria's laugh got a smile out of him: he waved at them, nodded his salute, but didn't stop by. He slipped his envelope in his saddle bag, mounted his horse, waved once more at Victoria with a smile and left the pueblo.

By the gate, he passed a big carriage which coach-driver then stopped his horses in the middle of the plaza, halfway between the tavern and the _cuartel_.

Victoria wondered what was in Don Diego's envelope. And where was he heading to? What was so important to him that he wouldn't take the time to share a drink with Mendoza and a kind banter with her? He was probably riding home, to keep company to his father. Lord knows the man needed some company and kind attention from a beloved one, troubled as he seemed to be lately! Unless Don Diego was once more God knows where, on one more of his many unexplained disappearances. A... a... a _woman_, perhaps?

What a strange idea! And anyway, Diego de la Vega just wasn't that type...

"Oh, look, Señorita! Here comes the stagecoach! That will be good for your business..."

"Sure," she said with a suddenly very wide grin, "all those poor travellers with dry throats and a need for accommodation tonight!"

She rubbed her hands in glee and anticipation, idly looking at the coach driver helping his female passengers out of the carriage. As he was holding his hand out to a thirty-something woman, Victoria was already mentally calculating how many bottles of wine she'd have to take from her cellar. _Oh, no wine for that one,_ she thought as the driver helped a little girl out of the coach by putting his hands on her waist and lifting her up as though she weighed nothing. Before he put her down he held her at arm's length and spun around, eliciting a childish hearty laugh from her.

Victoria was planning the amount of soup she'd have to prepare for dinnertime when Sergeant Mendoza interrupted the course of her thoughts with an exclamation:

"Oh! Look, Padre Benitez is back!"

And indeed, the portly padre was prudently stepping out of the coach. He had been gone more than a whole week, and his helpers at the mission had been finding his absence a bit tiring, having to fill in for him in his many daily tasks other than purely religious ones.

Victoria waved at him, calling across the plaza:

"Hola, welcome home, padre!"

"_Gracias mi hija,_" padre Benitez answered her before he politely took his leave from the other passengers and headed to the presbytery.

As predicted, most of the newcomers made their way to the tavern. A young man in his twenties asked her for her best wine, an old man and his son asked where they could loan a carriage and its owner to drive them to Don Virgilio Ségura's hacienda, and a nice couple in their thirties rented a room. Other regular patrons chose that precise moment to finally come for a drink and for a break in their day's work. When Victoria entered her tavern to take care of the incoming customers, she heard a woman's voice gently scold the child back in the plaza:

"Señorita, for God's sake, get down from this fence, this isn't a horse!"

She was immediately joined by another firmer female voice: "Leonor! Stop running around and jumping everywhere! Now!"

Tending to her customers and paying attention to life going on around her, Victoria focused on the task at hand and momentarily pushed aside any concern about Don Alejandro and any question she could have about his son.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

"Señorita, another pitcher here, por favor!"

"Señorita, is there any bedroom available for tonight?"

Victoria was swiftly going from one table to another, serving her customers and answering their questions, all the while keeping a businesslike although genuine smile on her face: today's receipts would be good, after all...

Mendoza was eyeing the scene from the counter: he had finally gotten inside to avoid being spotted on the terrace by alcalde de Soto and therefore being told to get back to work. Three vaqueros entered and sat down at a table near the entrance. Young Don Raul Lluviera, still a teenager – he was... what... fifteen now, at most? Mendoza calculated – ordered tequila. Two women entered, with a child in tow. The first one, a plainly-dressed fifty-something woman, was carrying three bags and looking around as though to take in everything. The other one was a woman in her thirties, clad in a fine brown travel outfit. She was tiredly dragging along an overexcited bouncing little girl.

"This isn't tequila!" Don Raul's teenaged breaking voice suddenly echoed in the tavern.

"It certainly isn't," Victoria replied. "It's Madeira, and it's the strongest you'll have in my tavern for the few years to come, Don Raul."

"But—"

"No 'but', Don Raul! It will be either Madeira or lemonade for you. What do you choose?"

The young boy reluctantly took another sip of his beverage, admitting his defeat: rather Madeira than some children's drink. He wasn't Diego de la Vega!

Mendoza turned his attention back to the travelling ladies who were just coming near the counter.

"Oh, come on," the youngest was telling the other, "we've all been through this age! Don't speak as if you didn't remember this time of your life, Concepcion..."

"I'd gladly forget it, Señora," Concepcion replied. "When I was fifteen I was terribly foolish, that's all I remember!"

"And when _I_ was fifteen," the other replied, "I got married. We all have embarrassing and inconvenient anecdotes of our past we'd rather forget, don't we?" she cheerfully added.

Just beside Mendoza, the little girl was standing on tip toes in a desperate but useless attempt to see what was above the wooden panel of the counter. She then raised her arms to put her little hands on top of the counter and repeatedly jumped up and down in order to see beyond it.

"Señorita," the older woman – _Concepcion_, as the other called her – chastised her, "please calm down and stop jumping like a bunny!"

But on her last bounce, the child landed on the sergeant's foot.

"Ouch!" Mendoza let out.

"Leonor!" the younger one added, "calm down and stop fidgeting! Now apologise to the sergeant."

The girl eyed the man, rather impressed by the large stomach she was facing. She then raised her head to look at his face.

"My apologies, Señor" she obediently mumbled, blushing a bit.

"That's alright, _niña_," he replied. "Such a featherweight as you can't harm too badly a soldier of His Majesty," he added, swelling out his chest.

"I'm sorry on my daughter's behalf, Sergeant," the younger woman said, "I'm afraid long journeys and long days in a stagecoach don't sit well with a six-years-old... She's become incredibly agitated, this last hour."

"Quite understandable, Señora."

"Concepcion," the senora called, "could you please give Leonor her book? With some luck she'll sit and calm down."

The older woman searched in one of her bags and took out a storybook.

"Take this and read the rest of the tale you started in the coach, Señorita."

Victoria, who was passing by, was very surprised and asked the mother:

"She can read? A whole real book? At such a young age?"

"Well, yes," the Señora answered with a hint of motherly pride. "She's quite bookish, in fact. That's something running in the family..."

Victoria went to the other side of the room, where alcalde de Soto had just entered the tavern and sat down at a secluded table. She wasn't too fond of him, far from it, but after all he was a customer like any other, and as long as he wasn't creating any problem, he had the right to be served...

"Señora," Concepcion told the woman who was certainly her employer, "maybe the kind sergeant could tell us how to go to the hacienda and where we could rent a carriage and hire someone to drive us there..."

"Oh, I think we'll wait until tomorrow to go there. After all, we're not expected on any scheduled date, are we? And it's getting rather late. Not to add that I feel dirty and exhausted from the journey, and Leonor could certainly do with some rest: she's really agitated. And above all I want a cool drink, a much-needed bath, and a bed. In that order. We'll stay at the tavern, tonight."

"Did you have a long journey, Señoras?" Mendoza politely asked.

"Quite," she simply answered.

"Sergeant," Concepcion then asked him, "could you at least tell us whether the de la Vega hacienda is far from the pueblo?"

"The de la Vega hacienda?" Mendoza repeated. "Definitely too far for two fine ladies and a young child to walk there, I'm afraid. But if you want some means of transportation, surely Don—"

"Oh, let's not bother with that for now, we'll see to it tomorrow," the younger woman said. "Señora!" she called Victoria.

The innkeeper made her way to her:

"Yes, can I help you, Señora?"

"I hope so, Señora: I need a room for my daughter and myself tonight, and another one for my maid."

"Certainly, Señora. And that's 'Señorita'. I have two contiguous bedrooms, if you want."

"Perfect. I'll have a bath, too, but first things first, could you please serve us two gasses of this certainly excellent Madeira the young man over there — she made a discreet gesture in Don Raul's direction — seemed to find so disappointing?"

Victoria laughed and the Señora smiled, as well as Mendoza.

"And some lemonade too," the grinning mother added, looking down right beside herself, "there's a dehydrated little girl here who certainly could use some!"

The child closed her book and looked up.

"Oh, Mamá, can't I have wine?" she asked. The adults laughed at her enthusiasm.

The mother then frowned a bit.

"Just one small mouthful," she granted, "to further educate your taste buds, and only if it's a good one." She jerked her head at Victoria who was now behind her counter. "Oh, sorry Señora, I didn't mean to imply that your wine wasn't good!"

"That's all right, I think I understand what you meant and I didn't take it wrongly."

While Victoria was pouring the drinks and talking with the two women, Mendoza took the glass of lemonade and gave it to the little girl who was too short to grab it on the counter.

"Thank the sergeant, Señorita," the maid instructed her.

"Gracias Señor," she said.

"And the kind innkeeper," her mother added.

"Gracias Señora," the child repeated.

"De nada," Victoria said, before turning her back to the counter in order to wash some glasses.

"De nada, _niña_," the sergeant echoed. "By the way, young señorita, we haven't been formally introduced: my name is Jaime. The lovely lady here is Victoria. And what's your name, _pequeña_?"

Straightening, the child spoke clear and loud as she'd been instructed to do when introducing herself:

"Leonor de la Vega y Ximénez, Señor."

Mendoza was a bit surprised at hearing this name, as was at least half the tavern according to the slight decrease in the background noise, and Victoria turned to her customers.

"Oh, are you a cousin of Don Diego's?" she asked the mother.

"No, not exactly," the woman simply answered. "Finish your drink, Leonor, and take your book, we're going to our rooms. And you need a bath."

But the child was starting to take a liking in the funny kind sergeant, and when he next asked her what a lovely little girl like her has come to do in Los Angeles, she beamed and proclaimed with a wide grin:

"I've come to see my papá."

And in the deafening silence that had now spread over the tavern and to which the girl was totally oblivious, she added:

"And we're going to visit his home for the first time!"

A few seconds later, as the three women — well, two and a half, really — were climbing the stairs to their rented bedrooms, all heads in the tavern, including the alcalde's and Victoria's suddenly very pale and shocked face, turned to the now empty office of the _Guardian_.


	2. Ch 2 - Felipe

**Chapter 2 - Felipe**

Unbeknownst to the other customers, a young man slipped out of the tavern through the kitchen backdoor. Felipe, the de la Vegas' young mute servant, had come there to deliver some goods to Victoria; he hadn't entered the tavern's main room, quietly waiting for her to come back with the bottle of tequila she had promised to Don Alejandro in exchange for his wine.

But even though he didn't see the little girl's lips move, he perfectly heard her words and felt absolutely thunderstruck at what she innocently implied.

He peeped through the curtain to have a quick look at the scene taking place inside the tavern: he managed to catch a glimpse of a five or six years-old girl heading to the stairs. All he could see before she turned her back to climb it was a rather round childish face with even features and twinkling eyes, framed by thick raven hair. Above a slightly too square jaw, small dimples were punctuating her cheeks, as though to draw quotation marks around her smile.

And this last detail felt disturbingly familiar to Felipe. He thought he recognised the author of that 'quote'.

He noticed that the whole tavern seemed dumbstruck as the two women and the child hurriedly disappeared inside their bedrooms, but he knew this silence wouldn't last long. In a few seconds the room would be buzzing with the sound of conversations — or rather _gossips_, after this scene — and Victoria would finally remember his presence in the kitchen.

Victoria Escalante being Victoria Escalante, she would bombard him with questions. And aside from the fact that he didn't know the first thing about this situation, he suddenly really didn't want to 'talk' right now.

Of course he could play dumb — quite literally, in fact — and pretend he didn't understand people's questions, but he didn't feel like pretending and acting right now. He needed to be alone for some time, to let this puzzling scene sink in and then begin to think about it...

But before he had time to slip through the backdoor he heard a man's voice coming from the other side of the curtain that separated the main room from the kitchen. It was saying:

"At least, since the girl bears his name, it seems he took responsibility for his misconduct and recognised the child."

The alcade's voice retorted:

"Unless de la Vega is so naive that he unknowingly covered for another one's doings!"

Some customers burst out laughing after the alcade's statement, while others didn't think that even de la Vega could be _that_ naive. And after all, if he indeed acknowledged the child, it meant that enough had happened for him to think she _could_ be his offspring.

"Well, I certainly don't blame him, the lucky devil!" another man's voice stated. "I mean, have you seen the mother? I sure wouldn't say no to some quality time with such a shapely lil' bird either..."

"That's quite enough!" Victoria's voice furiously interjected. "I won't allow such vulgar speech in my tavern!" she warned him, although in more than ten years running such a business she certainly had heard far worse without even blinking an eye.

"Oh, seems that Senorita Escalante doesn't take well the unexpected discovery that de la Vega finally had a life..." de Soto said. "Or else, are you just miffed at seeing that you're not on top of his ladies' list?" he added.

Felipe had heard enough of it. He discreetly left the pueblo without bothering waiting for Victoria's bottle of tequila. He wasn't particularly eager to be back home either, even though it was almost dinnertime, so he made his way to the hills for some quiet time alone...

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

Riding back from the pueblo in the middle of the night, Zorro was extremely puzzled.

The whole evening had been full of interrogations, but it culminated with his impromptu meeting with Victoria.

It had started with Felipe's absence at dinner. The young man hadn't advised anyone he'd come home late and, when he finally did, it was well past dinnertime. By way of explanation he pretended he had gone fishing in the hills and just lost track of time.

Except that he couldn't not have noticed the decrease in daylight... But before Diego could further question him, the young man announced that he felt very tired and went straight to bed, pretending not to notice that Diego was trying to catch his attention and to talk to him. And he didn't even have dinner!

There was something the boy wasn't telling them. He didn't bring back the bottle Victoria had promised to give them; and where did he really spend the last hours? At least, Diego noted with some relief, Felipe didn't smell of tequila. But what was he hiding? Was there a girl behind this poorly explained absence?

Anyway, Diego didn't have time to go see him and have him confess since Zorro had a mission scheduled for that same night: he had to retrieve some deed of property and its associated bill of sale for a land near San Diego that Don Alejandro had just sold to an old acquaintance. The alcalde had confiscated the papers before Alejandro had time to post them and he was planning on using them as a proof that the bill of sale was a forgery and that the de la Vegas were therefore trying to evade taxes; Diego feared the alcalde might counterfeit the paper himself to make sure that the bill finally appeared to be a fake...

But of course, once the burglary was accomplished things didn't go as well as expected and Zorro ended up hiding successively in a well, under a balcony, in a manger under some hay and finally in a barrel, as and when the soldiers were searching the pueblo for him, waking up some of its inhabitants by doing so. They particularly searched the tavern, going into each room without any consideration for the customers' sleep. From his hiding place in the street, Zorro could even hear that they woke up a young child who called for his or her mother in a terrified little voice. Sure enough, seeing armed soldiers invade their bedroom in the middle of the night was certainly very distressing for a child.

Once Mendoza left the tavern and led his men to another part of the pueblo, Zorro waited one more quarter of an hour before getting out of his hiding place and looking up at Victoria's bedroom: it wasn't lit, but the window which was previously closed was now slightly ajar...

Soon, Zorro was inside. Victoria closed the window again and didn't light the candle in order to avoid attracting attention. Here in the dark, they stood in each other's arms, waiting for the soldiers to renounce and go back to the _cuartel_ and to their beds.

Suddenly, between the murmured words of love they were tenderly exchanging and in the middle of a quiet silence, Victoria asked him completely out of the blue:

"Zorro, do you think Diego de la Vega could be leading a double life?"


	3. Ch 3 - Zorro

**Chapter 3 - Zorro**

_Do you think Diego de la Vega could be leading a double life?_

Oh_ Dios,_ was she having suspicions as to his identity? Was it her way to test her theory?

Thanks to the darkness, she couldn't see him blanch. For want of a clearer indication that she was on the right track, he chose to play dumb.

"I'm not sure I understand what you're talking about, Victoria."

She nested her head further into his shoulder. After a pause she elaborated:

"I mean... I know he's a grown man, and– and... and he's free of any ties or moral obligation to anyone... except to his father, that is... Oh _Dios_, Don Alejandro! The poor man will be appalled!"

Well, _appalled_ maybe was a bit too strong a word, Zorro thought. Of course he wouldn't be too happy to discover that his son had lied to him for so many years, had hidden such an important fact from him, and he'd probably worry sick each time Zorro were to ride as of then, but to say he'd be _appalled_ at his son's lie! Surely he'd understand the need for it after a while, wouldn't he?

At least, Zorro hoped so.

Lost in her thoughts, Victoria went on:

"I know... I know Don Diego doesn't have to answer or to justify himself to anyone... well, except to the padre and to his father, of course... Still..."

What on earth had padre Benitez to do with all that? Well, of course lying was a sin, but surely...

"I'm not totally convinced..." she reflected aloud. "I mean, despite everything, I can't picture him being that sort of man..."

He sure had played his role perfectly, he thought. Inept, inert, idle and spineless Diego de la Vega...

But what exactly did suddenly give her a clue? As long as she didn't clearly voice her suspicion as to his identity, Zorro decided he'd carry on with the charade and pretend not to have the first idea about what she was talking about.

"I still don't know what you mean, mi querida."

She tore herself away from his arms, took a step back and, through the feebly moonlit darkness, she searched his face, or rather what little she could make out of it.

Apparently Zorro, who was usually very well informed of whatever was going on in the pueblo – and sometimes _before_ it even happened – was this time totally unaware of the scene that took place downstairs a few hours earlier. Wondering why, she asked him in a serious voice:

"You didn't hear, did you?"

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

After Victoria told him what happened earlier in the tavern, Zorro remained speechless for a few seconds. He really didn't know what to say.

She understood he had trouble taking in this piece of information. Don Diego of all men..! But for some reason, Zorro seemed to take it very much to heart.

"And what's the woman's name?" he asked "I mean... after all, it's very easy to pretend and claim... What proof is there?"

Typical of men, Victoria reflected. And apparently even Zorro sometimes wasn't better than his fellow male comrades. Knee-jerk male solidarity, probably. She couldn't help but feel a bit disappointed in him.

Anyway, he could be right after all. Except that the woman didn't _claim_ anything, in fact. On the contrary, she had seemed rather eager to take her daughter away from the tavern's main room as soon as the girl started talking too much...

And Victoria told Zorro so.

He pressed his lips together in a thin line.

"Still," he said "this doesn't mean anything."

"But you didn't hear how spontaneous and natural she sounded..."

A bit lost at first, he quickly understood that Victoria was now talking about the girl and not her mother anymore. He tried to instil some humour to try to lighten the mood a bit – and Lord knows he needed it:

"Well, being natural is only natural for a natural child..."

Victoria shot him a glare so burning that it glowed through the darkness.

"It's hardly a matter of joke, Señor," she coolly told him.

Alright, not the right time for poorly chosen puns.

"You're right of course, I'm sorry," he apologised for his tasteless comment.

"You didn't see her either," she went on. "She... she... Come to think of that, she even _looks_ like him!"

Victoria couldn't see him frown under his mask.

"The same dark hair..." she started to list, "the same handsome and refined facial features..."

_Oh, she thinks I'm handsome?_

"...and she even has his dimples!"

Zorro retreated further in the shadow, away from the moonlight.

"I mean," Victoria added, "that's definitely a sign, isn't it? Everyone knows that's hereditary. And Don Diego has dimples, he takes these after his father. Risendo had these too. And I've never seen any portrait of Don Alejandro's parents, but I'm sure one of them had dimples!"

At the painful memory of his long-lost kidnapped, estranged and recently deceased twin brother, Zorro had a sudden fit of melancholy.

Not noticing his unease, Victoria went on:

"That's definitely a de la Vega trait. A trait her mother doesn't have..."

Suddenly slightly alarmed, Zorro tried not to move the lower part of his face, not to smile, not to make any move with his lips and mouth. He even tried to puff out his cheeks a bit, in the hope that it would prevent his dimples from showing.

All the while, the gears in his mind were turning at full speed about the unexpected situation. But his reflexion was interrupted by the sound of voices coming from the plaza:

"He's escaped once again! That man isn't a fox, he's a slippery eel!"

Instinctively, they flattened themselves against the wall, one on each side of the window, holding their breath, not daring to move so much as a toe.

At the same time, Zorro realised something: Felipe had been sent to the tavern at the end of the afternoon, so the probability that he was there when the woman and her daughter arrived or at least that he heard about them and about the last juicy piece of gossip that fuelled the tavern's conversations was very high. He must have been very distressed about it. Oh God, why didn't he just come straight to him instead of mulling it over and over for the whole evening? But at least it explained his strange behaviour of the previous hours. No girl and no tequila involved. Mystery solved. But he'd have to talk to him in the morning.

After a never-ending while, the voices stopped and the cuartel's doors closed. Victoria let out a deep and long breath.

"I think that's safe, now," she whispered. "How comes they didn't find your horse?"

"Tornado is clever, he knows what to do, I've trained him... I'll walk half a mile outside the pueblo and I'll find him in one of our hiding places, don't worry. But before I go..."

"Yes...?" a hopeful Victoria encouraged him, expecting a kiss. She came closer to him, her head slightly tilted back.

But instead of lowering his lips to hers, he slid his hands inside the black sash he was wearing as a belt and asked her:

"Could you please do me a favour?"

Victoria's eyes bulged. _What was he...?_

But he swiftly took two folded sheets of paper out of his sash.

"I need you to keep it for some time and hide it. If I give it back to the de la Vegas, the alcalde might confiscate these again and I'll have to break in his office _again_!"

Victoria took the papers from him and promised, planting a quick kiss on his lips as a good-bye. As she remembered he named the de la Vegas, her curiosity got the better of her and she started unfolding the first document. The last thing Zorro saw before he left through the window was "DEED OF CONVEYANCE" written on top of the page in capital letters.

As he was riding back home, his puzzled mind was trying to deal with this last piece of information: "Deed of conveyance" and not "bill of sale". His father had told him he had _sold_ these lands, yet it seemed he had simply _given_ them! Why? And above all, why didn't he just tell him about that? Then he remembered another detail he hadn't paid attention to, since he _saw_ the paper in Victoria's hands but didn't take the time to _read_ it. Now his memory was unfolding it before his mind's eye, and he tried his best to focus on what little he saw of the document. He couldn't make out the details, but a name stood out from the rest of the text, written twice as big as the rest and right in the middle of the page; unfortunately, Zorro didn't look at the paper long enough to make it out nor to etch it in his memory.

Too bad, maybe it would have helped him answer his questions... He'd have to ask Victoria next time he'll visit her as Zorro.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

Victoria stared at the papers Zorro had just entrusted her with.

Part of her felt bad, telling her over and over that this was personal business, personal papers, personal correspondence – well, no, not correspondence, there was no letter with the documents. But still...

Yet another part of her – the weaker-willed part – got the upper hand and, on the pretence of worrying for her good friends and watching over their best interests, she began reading the deed. Oh, just to know what it was about, nothing else.

_Oh_, she noted a bit disappointed, it was strictly business-related: Don Alejandro was donating some vineyards he owned near San Diego to... to...

Victorias' eyes bulged for the second time in the space of a few minutes.

WHAT ?!

To _Leonor de la Vega y Ximénez ?!_

_Oh._

Oh. Well, at least Don Alejandro already knew about the child.

That was a good thing.

Yes, at least that was something.

But on the other hand, Victoria reflected, that looked undeniably like a confirmation. Until this moment she had tried her best to keep an open and impartial mind, despite very convincing and compromising appearances. She had wanted to reserve her final judgement until she heard Don Diego out.

But this deed of conveyance was a blatant confirmation of what she didn't want to believe, of what she suspected against all hopes. Of what the whole pueblo now suspected.

And now that it was on the verge of becoming public knowledge, Don Diego wouldn't have any other choice but to finally marry the mother.

_But perhaps that had been the plan all along?_


	4. Ch 4 - Diego

**Chapter 4 - Diego**

Unlike most of the time, Diego got up early on the following morning. He couldn't sleep anymore, anyway: too many things turning endlessly in his mind...

First things first, he needed to have a serious conversation with Felipe.

But the young man seemed to have sensed it and was already gone.

"He said he wanted to go to the church," the housekeeper informed him.

To the church?

Oh, yes, Diego suddenly understood: Felipe was worried. There has always been a special bond between them, ever since Diego found him alone and orphaned on a battlefield, and it became even stronger since Diego came back from Spain. A bond which was somewhere halfway between 'father-son' and 'big brother-little brother'. But with a natural child now turning up in Los Angeles the boy probably feared a different turn in this special bond. And he might also be a bit jealous. He was worrying for himself. Worrying that he might have lost his place in favour of a little girl. Worrying about his future, afraid that the nature of his relationship with Diego would change.

_Oh, dear, how little he knows me if he thinks anything can change that!_

Yes, Diego really needed to see him and have this conversation with him.

He'd also have to talk to Don Alejandro, preferably _before_ the last news from the pueblo came to his ears.

Oh, and of course there was Victoria. What was she thinking right now? Her opinion on him wasn't probably very high, at the moment. He'd have to make things right here too.

Oh dear, what a fine mess he was in!

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

"Yes, he was there," padre Benitez told Diego, "but he left a few minutes ago. He just lit a candle, kneeled and prayed. According to his gesture to me, I think he tried to tell me he wanted to be alone for some time."

"Gracias, Padre," Diego thanked him before heading for the exit.

"Don Diego!" the padre called him.

Diego stopped on his track and turned to the priest. He felt the padre wanted to say something but was struggling to find the right words.

"Have you talked to your father, today?"

"No I haven't seen him yet," Diego answered.

He had more than just an inkling of precisely what the padre expected him to confess to his father. Well, now that the word was probably all around the pueblo, it wasn't hard to guess. He let out a heavy sigh.

"Then you should go home now, Don Diego," padre Benitez advised him, "and talk with your father."

"Thank you Padre," he replied in a somewhat stiff voice, "but I must first find Felipe."

He bowed his head to take his leave and turned to the door.

"Go home, Diego," the padre simply told him before he stepped out of the church.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

Felipe wasn't in the _Guardian_'s office, nor anywhere in the pueblo as it seemed.

Since he set foot on the plaza that morning, Diego had been on the receiving end of two opposite kinds of treatment: most of the women and half the men answered very coldly to his greetings, paying him nothing more than polite lip service, and turned their backs to him; the others – men, exclusively – sent large grins his way and some of them even discreetly patted him on the back in some sort of either brotherly or patronising manner, he couldn't tell.

But all had in common the fact that they were whispering between themselves on his way. When he walked out of the _Guardian_'s it started again, and these attitudes were really beginning to grate on his nerves. But a public outburst was so very unlike Don Diego de la Vega's quiet and meek persona that he held himself in check, suck it up and valiantly endured it like a man.

He glanced sideways at the tavern. Victoria... she wasn't on the porch but certainly inside, working in her kitchen, and very possibly appalled at his shocking and scandalous misconduct. _Appalled_ was the exact term she used, right? Well, he could understand her point of view: getting a young woman with child and _not_ marrying her... Yes, he thought he could understand very well the general disapproval.

He felt a compelling need to talk to Victoria in order to set things straight with her. But he wisely knew better: rather not try to talk with an irritated and testy Victoria Escalante. He'd better wait until the afternoon, when she would have had time to calm down.

For now he had to find Felipe and talk to him, as well as to his father. Felipe, his father and Victoria: the three people whose opinion of him was the most important to his eyes.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

Felipe wasn't in his favourite fishing spot in the hills either. Finally, an idea came to Diego's mind; an idea so obvious that he felt stupid for not having thought of it earlier. Of course! The cave!

Relieved, Diego headed for the hacienda. With both his father and Felipe at home, he could kill two birds with one stone.

When he entered the hacienda, Diego saw his father come from the library.

"Ah, Diego, my son, I'm glad you're back. You were up early today... Is anything wrong? Are you unwell?"

Oh dear, how could being up and ready early be a sign of sickness? But anything unusual could be a sign that something was wrong, and getting up at sunrise certainly was deemed as unusual coming from Diego de la Vega.

"I'm all right, Father. Fit as a fiddle!"

_Physically, at least._

Don Alejandro eyed him.

"Diego..." he began, "you know we..."

He paused.

"I know we're sometimes not spending much time together," he went on, "but... Fathers and sons shouldn't... I mean... they should be able to tell each other anything."

"I assure you I'm perfectly fine, Father! And as a matter of fact, I'm glad to find you here, I wanted to–"

But Don Alejandro interrupted him:

"I uh... Parents and children shouldn't have secrets for each other..."

_Oh._ Diego felt a cold shiver run down his spine. His father definitely knew something. But what exactly was he hinting at? At his very dangerous black and masked secret, or at the very recent but juiciest piece of news Los Angeles had had in months?

"Diego, I've been thinking a lot since Gil–" Don Alejandro's voice broke. He still had trouble saying this name, it always overwhelmed him with sadness. And as always, Diego felt for his father: losing a child, even one you didn't know you had, was inevitably very painful. Losing a brother was, too. Silently, he reached for his father's hand and pressed it lightly.

Don Alejandro gave him a grateful smile. Then he resumed talking:

"...ever since your brother's death... yes, I've been thinking a lot. And I came to the conclusion that you and I should be able to tell each other anything, without fear. With full trust and as a sign of goodwill."

_Oh,_ Diego thought again. Yes, his father was benevolently but clearly inviting him to confess.

"Father, there's something you might... uh... I need to... I must say..."

"Diego," his father interrupted him again, "we're a family. We shouldn't have secrets for each other. Not anymore. That's why I wanted to..."

Then Don Alejandro seemed to slightly change his mind:

"No, that's not the way I should..."

He straightened, took his son by his elbow and gently guided him out of the sala toward the library.

_The library!_ Alarmed, Diego thought of the secret panel behind the fireplace. Apparently, Don Alejandro had discovered the secret passageway. And therefore Zorro's lair. Hence this awkward speech.

Did he spot Felipe step through the fireplace, despite the young man's usual care and caution? _Well, _Diego reflected,_ our constant comings and goings through it couldn't go forever unnoticed, after all..._

When they reached the corner and before they entered the library, his father told him:

"Diego, there's someone I want you to meet..."

_Uh?_

They entered the library. The first thing Diego saw in there was a pastel blue form on the sofa. The form rose: a woman, roughly his age, clad in a refined light blue satin dress. Before they entered she had been reading, but now she was absent-mindedly holding her book, or rather it was nearly hanging from her dangling arm. All her attention was focused on Diego.

She seemed a bit nervous but hid it very well. She set her book down on the side table and smiled at him. A slightly unsure little smile.

"Diego," Don Alejandro said, "may I introduce Señora Araceli Ximénez de Valdès."

The woman curtsied.

"Araceli, this is my son Diego."

Despite feeling a bit puzzled and confused, Diego still had the presence of mind to bow, if only out of habit.

"You see, Diego," his father told him, taking him by the elbows once again, "losing Gi– losing my son made me think a lot... about family..."

Diego looked at him. He wondered why his father thought fit to have a conversation on this subject in the presence of a perfect stranger like this woman. Oblivious to his son's reservations, Don Alejandro went on:

"I uh... I don't really know how to... well, talking has never really been my forte, I'm afraid."

Diego saw Señora Valdès suppress a smile.

"Perhaps..." she said, before pausing too, "perhaps there is someone else Don Diego should meet too before any further explanation...?"

"Yes," Don Alejandro said, "yes, you're right. Let's go to the guestrooms."

He led the way and a perplexed Diego obediently followed, Señora Valdès in tow. At the end of the corridor, Don Alejandro knocked on one door. When no one answered, he opened it.

Diego heard him gasp and he looked inside in turn: in the middle of half unpacked travel bags a woman he didn't know was crouching at the foot of the bed, gagged with a silk scarf and tied to the bedpost with ropes by her feet and her hands. There was a light graze on her neck and a trickle of blood was running from it.

In two steps, Señora Valdès was at her side. With shaking hands she untied the gag.

"Concepcion, are you all right?" she asked her while starting to work on the ropes.

"Oh... Señora... Señora!" the woman said, sobbing.

Then everyone started talking at the same time:

"What happened?"

"Are you all right?"

"Oh _Dios_, Señora, I'm so sorry!"

Diego swiftly untied her and helped her up.

"Oh my God, LEONOR!" Señora Valdès shouted.

"What happened?" Don Alejandro cried out. "Where is she?"

"Leonor! Leonor!" the señora called.

"Señora... Señora... I'm so sorry!" Concepcion repeated, shaking.

"Where is she?" Don Alejandro asked her again, looking alarmed.

Noticing the wide open window and the obvious signs of a struggle in the room, Diego was beginning to have an idea of what just happened there.

Breathing deeply, Concepcion calmed down a bit and was finally able to speak coherently:

"Two masked men... They entered through the window... They had weapons... pistols and swords and knives..."

She winced at the memory, raising her hand to the wound on her neck.

"I'm so sorry," she went on. "I tried, but I couldn't do anything. They took her. They said: _'tell Don Alejandro that he's to bring eight thousands pesos to Plata Canyon before sunset if he wants his daughter back and alive.'_ Oh, I'm so sorry Don Alejandro, Doña Araceli..."

Señora Valdès gasped, Don Alejandro turned white as a sheet, and Diego's mind was slowly processing the unexpected and shocking revelation combined with what had happened in this room. That was a lot to take in, but now was not the time to overthink things he couldn't do anything about, but rather to focus on those he might be able to actually _do_ something about.

He set his gaze on his distraught father and on the equally distressed Señora. Two terrified parents, worried sick for their child.

But Don Alejandro being a de la Vega, he soon turned from deathly pale to bright red, clenched his fists and hurriedly got out of the guestroom. Diego heard him rummage through drawers, then he recognised the steely and unmistakable sound of a blade being drawn out of its scabbard.

_Oh, no!_ Diego thought. In his current state of mind, all his father would achieve was to get himself killed, or the girl, or both...

No. This was a job for Zorro.

* * *

><p><em>And now it's out! Congratulations to the three reviewers (miXiZ, MBG and an unknown guest) who found out the identity of the girl's father before this chapter! And to those who suspected it could have been Gilberto Risendo... well, don't feel bad, I led you on this track on purpose!<em>

_But now there is something of a situation, here...  
><em>


	5. Ch 5 - Alejandro

**Chapter 5 - Alejandro**

"Father..."

"Not now, Diego."

_Oh, no no no no no_, Diego thought as his father was jerkily loading powder in one of his pistols. The man was shaking with rage, and half the powder spread over the marble plate of the sala's pedestal table.

"Father, I don't think this is–"

"I said _later_, Diego!"

He was now loading a bullet in the barrel. Diego noticed he already had another pistol in his belt.

"Father, forgive me for stating this so abruptly, but I'm afraid you're getting a little too old for–"

"You're afraid of _everything,_ Diego!" Don Alejandro sharply pointed out.

Then he seemed to regret his hurtful comment and told him in a kinder tone of voice:

"Diego, I know you're not a man of action and I won't ask you to come with me. Lord knows I worry enough for Leonor, I don't want to have to worry for you too, my son. If... if anything were to happen to you..."

He paused, swallowing hard.

"Father, I have the exact same worry about you running after–"

"I can't..." Don Alejandro interrupted him, "I can't just stay... not when my daughter... Don't worry for me Diego, I'll be alright, I know what I'm doing."

"Father, I don't think you're–"

But Don Alejandro surprised him by taking him gently by the shoulders and looking at him in a serious manner.

"Diego," he said, "I know you won't come with me. That's alright: I need you to look after Araceli and comfort her. Please."

"I don't need comforting, Alejandro, I need my daughter," said a slightly shaky but rather assertive voice coming from the corridor as Señora Valdès entered the room. "Alive. Safe and sound."

"I'm going to find her, Araceli. To find _them_," he promised, slipping his second pistol in his belt. "I'll bring her back home."

"Alejandro, don't do anything foolish! I know you don't want to hear that, but you're too old for this! Let's call upon your alcalde, upon the army!"

"Hmph!" Don Alejandro snorted, "the alcalde... you obviously don't know him, of course..."

"Still," she insisted, "what do you think you're doing? Concepcion told me it happened a good twenty minutes ago. They're far away by now, and we wouldn't know where to begin the search!"

Her voice sounded calm, even though a bit forcedly so, but she was restlessly wringing her hands.

"She's right, Father, and even if you find them, how would you proceed? You won't help or save anyone by getting yourself killed!"

"He's right, Alejandro," she said "listen to us."

"Oh," he barked at her, "and what do you suggest? That we should pay? You really think they'll release her then?"

"No," she immediately answered. "They know she can recognise them, recognise their voices, even though she's still very young. Believe me, I'd gladly give all the money I have, my house, my business and even down to the last piece of clothing I'm wearing to get my daughter back, but I doubt it would do any good..."

"So, what?" he yelled. "What do you suggest?"

"Father, please," Diego intervened, "there's no need to shout at the señora..."

She sighed, closing her eyes, lowering her head, frowning a bit.

"I don't know," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Perhaps... perhaps go to that canyon tonight and try to... to buy time. Time enough for the soldiers to find them... to... Perhaps we could tell them it takes more time to get eight thousands pesos in cash... that we need a proof that she's still–" she paused. "...that she is uninjured, that she is treated well..."

Don Alejandro sighed.

"You sound just like Diego," he said. "Always overthinking everything..."

"Then Don Diego must be a wise man," she commented, "but that's hardly the matter here. I worry for Leonor and I don't want to worry for you on top of that."

"Oh, you worry for her, really?" he angrily asked. "Not enough to want to run after those scoundrels! I love Leonor, enough to go after them, and I'll get her!"

Araceli was already on edge, and this time she truly lost her temper:

"How dare you suggest I could love my daughter less than you do? I forbid you–"

She was too outraged and too frightened to think coherently anymore, Diego could see that. Oh, dear, he had just found out his father had had a secret bastard child he had hidden from him for years, with a woman he didn't even know, and he was now finding himself in the middle of a nasty fight between the two distraught parents!

"Please, please, Father, Señora, I don't think that's the right time for this. Father, I really think Señora Valdès's suggestion deserves consideration."

She sighed, closing her eyes once again. Then she turned to Diego's father:

"I'm sorry Alejandro, I'm afraid I got carried away and didn't really mean what I said."

"That's alright, my dear," he replied, "I believe I can't really think straight right now. I certainly didn't mean to doubt your motherly love... I apologise."

In the awkward silence that followed, Diego really felt out of place. And when his father hesitantly reached to grab Señora Valdès's hand and squeezed it lightly, he felt something not really pleasant in his guts. Part of him, probably the one that remembered his mother, felt a bit ill-at-ease before this modest display of intimacy, even though it remained very seemly.

On the other hand, that was the ideal pretext to slip away and go down to the cave, now that his father was held in check. He was about to take his leave from them when someone imperatively knocked on the front door.

"De la Vega!" a voice shouted from outside, "open that door!"

The alcalde!

With all these emotions, startling revelations and now the worry about both the little girl and his father's usual rashness, Diego had completely forgotten about those damn papers. He went to the vestibule to open the front door.

"Alcalde!" he said, "to what do we owe–"

But he stopped short: de Soto had come accompanied by a good twenty soldiers, among who was a very uneasy sergeant Mendoza. _Madre de Dios,_ he really wanted those papers!

"Diego," he negligently said, totally disregarding him as he brushed him aside to step inside, "is your father home?"

"Ignacio, this is not exactly the right time for that–"

But de Soto had already entered the sala, followed by some of his soldiers.

"Oh," he murmured, "I see..."

What he saw was the woman from the tavern – yes, the exact same one who arrived by the stagecoach with her child and who triggered the current shocked gossips in the pueblo. And in front of that woman was a very irritated Don Alejandro, according to the red colour of his face, his short breath and his shaking clenched fists. The man was angered.

De Soto then only had to notice the flustered state Don Diego appeared to be in and the woman's obvious distress to put the pieces together: Diego de la Vega was currently receiving the biggest telling-off of his whole life. And it wasn't difficult to guess why.

But at least, de Soto noted with unusual thoughtfulness, they had the delicacy not to settle this thorny and ugly business in front of the child. The girl was nowhere to be seen.

_Oh dear Lord,_ de Soto thought not without some amusement, _old Don Alejandro must be absolutely furious!_

Well, he couldn't really blame him: the man seemed to be so self-righteous and uptight that it must have been a real shock to discover that Don Diego wasn't exactly the prim-and-proper daddy's boy he believed him to be, as well as to discover that his son finally had it in him! And well, with an unexpected bastard grandchild now turning up... Surely this wasn't how he envisioned the fulfilment of his constant wish that his son provided him with those grandbabies he had been nagging him with over the last year or so.

Yes, Ignacio de Soto couldn't blame Don Alejandro's anger.

But as the alcalde took a better look at the woman, he couldn't really come to blame Diego either... This lady was quite appealing in fact, and she must have been even more so six or seven years earlier!

Hum. Yes. Well... Although he would really like to sit back and enjoy the show of Diego de la Vega getting the dressing down of his life by his father, Ignacio de Soto had come here with a purpose:

"Well, Señores, I guess you know why I'm here. I've come to retrieve the documents this rascal Zorro stole last night in my–"

"Alcalde," Don Alejandro interrupted him in a testy voice, "now is really not the time for your antics!"

Flabbergast at his unexpected and offensive rudeness, de Soto remained speechless.

What? How did he dare...? Alright, the man was troubled by what he had just learned, but there was no need to take it out on him! After all, he wasn't the one who seduced a young girl, got her pregnant and just about one year later left and put an ocean between them. Because according to the child's age, this whole affair must have happened when Diego was in Spain.

Yes, Ignacio felt outraged. And this was a blatant lack of respect for his position as alcalde. He was about to tell Don Alejandro so in a few choice words when the woman came to him and said:

"Quite the contrary, the alcalde's timing couldn't be better."

And she launched into a very fast explanation about child abduction, blackmail and a threatened maid. From what Ignacio could make of this, the little girl had just been kidnapped for ransom and her mother was understandably frightened for her.

Then Don Diego and his father both entered the conversation, but the alcalde's mind simply froze at Don Alejandro saying 'my daughter'.

_'My daughter'. _What exactly did he mean by that? Uh?

Oh, and here he'd just said it again. _'My daughter'._

And suddenly Ignacio's eyes grew wide. Oh! Don Alejandro? Don _Alejandro_ and not Don _Diego_?

Wow... That was... that was quite something.

"Please Señor alcalde," the woman was pleading, laying her hands on his forearm and squeezing it, "please bring my daughter back!"

There are priorities in life, Ignacio decided, and this woman's daughter's life prevailed over any tax avoidance her grandfather – no! her _father_! – could be plotting. Plus de Soto had still in mind that he had had to kill one of Don Alejandro's sons a few weeks ago, so if he could do something to prevent the loss of another of his children...

He even agreed to the woman's and Diego's request to take Don Alejandro with them in the search party.

"Gracias Ignacio," Don Diego told him, relieved that at least his father wouldn't launch into a solitary crusade. He knew Don Alejandro overestimated his own strength and dexterity, living with the memory of his successful youth in the army and completely forgetting about his age. Or at least refusing to acknowledge the effects the passing of time had had on his skills and abilities.

Diego took Mendoza aside and discreetly asked him:

"Please, Sergeant, look after my father. Keep an eye on him, will you?"

"Si Don Diego," the sergeant replied with a knowing wink. "I won't let him out of my sight."

"Gracias," Diego thanked him, "I'm afraid he'd try something rash and foolish..."

"Oh," Araceli told him, "you too..."

He looked at her. She knew him well, he realised. She truly _knew_ his father, or at least part of him.

Diego took a better look at her. Despite her natural olive complexion she was now looking very pallid. She pensively rose a shaky hand to her mouth and started biting her nails.

Don Alejandro came closer to her and took her by the shoulders. She avoided his serious gaze and turned her head to the side.

"Look at me," he told her. "Araceli, look at me."

She slowly complied, wincing. "We will find her," he added.

"You don't even know where to begin with," she stated. "What are you going to do? Search the desert at random? We'd far better set a trap for them... I thought... I expected the alcalde to suggest something like that... Tonight we could go to this canyon, hide and wait for one of them to show up to fetch the ransom. And then we follow him discreetly until he leads us to her!"

"Perhaps we will," Don Alejandro said, "if we don't find her earlier, but I can't just stay here all day long and wait for the night to fall."

Then he turned to his son:

"Diego, I know you must have a good thousand questions, but I don't have time to answer them now. Araceli will be able to enlighten you on many of your interrogations, though. I know I can rely on you to look after her and support her, my son."

After that he went outside and headed for the stable to get Dulcinae saddled.

Meanwhile, the alcalde was getting his troops ready. Keeping in mind the initial reason for his visit to the de la Vega hacienda, he told three of his soldiers to stay there and search the hacienda for the missing documents, beginning with the study, but going through all rooms if necessary, even down to the bedrooms. Diego sighed. When de Soto had something on his mind...

What was on Diego's mind, though, was to go down to the cave and begin his own search for the girl and her abductors. But once he found himself one-on-one with Señora Valdès a very awkward silence settled between them.

"Do you..." he began, "if there's anything you need..."

"All I need is my daughter!" she answered briskly. "Sorry, Don Diego, I didn't..."

She forced a strained smile on her face.

"Well," she went on, "as your father said, there are certainly many questions you wish to ask me..."

He looked at her.

"As a matter of fact, right now I have only one," he said, thinking about the content of the message the kidnappers had Concepcion repeat to Don Alejandro. "Who else knew that your daughter is also my father's?"


	6. Ch 6 - You've got mail

**Chapter 6 – You've got mail**

Diego had finally managed to give Señora Valdès the slip by handing her over to Felipe's and the housekeeper's care.

Galloping through the desert, Zorro was thinking about what she told him – or rather told _Diego_. In Los Angeles no one had known about Leonor's existence – except for the padre, and only for the last week or so – but in San Diego, where she lived, the identity of her child's father wasn't really kept under thick and opaque wraps. In other words, they had never been advertising about it, but didn't strictly conceal it either. Discreet but not secret.

And of course all her household knew that the elderly caballero who visited and stayed there for a few days every three month or so was the young señorita's father. Even half of her other employees did. And since Don Alejandro legally acknowledged paternity of the baby, of course his lawyer and the clerks knew. Plus probably some other people in San Diego. They weren't exactly hiding that fact, and anyway most people there knew that Señora Valdès had a child when she already had no husband anymore, so his frequent visits to the girl were enough of a clue.

And she apparently was well-off enough and detached enough from socialising to allow herself to dispense with an impeccable reputation. In her own words, she could afford for living according to her own standards. Diego didn't know what to make of that statement, nor if he should be worried of this on his father's behalf. But right now, they all had other more pressing and serious worries on their mind.

Anyway. If the girl's lineage was only known by people from San Diego and by no one in Los Angeles, it meant two things: these men had come from there and they had followed her and her daughter to Los Angeles. Which meant one more thing: they didn't know the surroundings, while Zorro knew these like the back of his hand. It was a clear advantage in his favour. Good.

But Señora Valdès had been right about something: no one could know where to begin the search. And he also had to avoid the alcade's patrol. This time they were more than twenty soldiers, that was beginning to be quite a lot; moreover, his father was with them, and Diego knew of his admiration for Zorro: he would side with him in a fight against the soldiers. And he didn't want him to do anything rash and reckless because of him.

Before he left the hacienda, Diego had looked outside the girl's bedroom, but he didn't find any footprints nor hoofprints. They covered their tracks very well, it would have taken someone as talented as Grey Wing, the Indian scout, to find which way they went.

For lack of any better idea, Zorro headed for Plata Canyon. Odds were high the kidnappers didn't know it very well, so perhaps they first did some reconnaissance there. Once there, he spotted some ideal hiding places to watch without being seen: if nothing better came along before nightfall, the señora's suggestion to his father might be the best course of action. Except Zorro didn't trust the alcalde and a whole company of soldiers to be discreet and quiet enough to follow the bandits in the middle of the silent night without being heard or spotted by their prey. No, this was definitely Zorro's area of expertise...

Suddenly, he stopped Tornado short in his track. Hoofprints! _Fresh_ hoofprints. And some more a few feet further! And even more over there! And– and–

_Oh no!_ A _great_ _great many lot_ of very fresh hoofprints. He had first thought he had come across the kidnappers' trail, but it was only the marks left by the patrol when the alcalde, following the same idea as his, led the search party to the canyon.

And apparently they didn't find anything, according to the tracks eventually running in circles. Even though there had been any clue here, so many horses and men walked and rode over these that it would be impossible to see anything in that mess by now.

Zorro sighed. The sun was high in the sky and he didn't have the first clue as to the kidnappers' whereabouts. He had been gone for a good three hours. Señora Valdès was going to wonder where he was. Well, he thought, Felipe could take care of that and come up with some explanation, as always. Except she couldn't understand him... And after all, perhaps there had been some new development while he was away...

Reluctantly, he brought himself to suspend the search for one hour, hoping against hope that some good news was awaiting him back home. He hated coming back empty-handed. But it was lunchtime and his absence from the hacienda on such a critical day would seem either highly suspicious or really unforgivable, and even Felipe couldn't find a suitable excuse for that.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

The three soldiers de Soto left behind him were still there and had rummaged through all of the study's drawers and shelves, after what they had searched the sala and then the library. Diego knew they wouldn't find what they were looking for here in the hacienda, since it was at the tavern. Nevertheless, he was quite nervous at the idea of them searching the library, especially near the fireplace: looking for some insignificant papers, they could come across far more than that, and he would have much trouble making anyone believe he didn't know the first thing about this cave that was so full of his beloved scientific tools, glassware and chemicals. And of Zorro's things, incidentally.

So when they left the library to go search the bedrooms, Diego and Felipe discreetly breathed a sigh of relief. They stepped through the fireplace and Felipe began tidying the rooms: the soldiers were very thorough in their search, but not very careful. There were discarded papers here and there, and even pieces of broken bibelots and trinkets on the floor. Felipe sighed inwardly when he heard once more the sound of broken glass come from what seemed to be Don Alejandro's bedroom. He shot an exasperated glance at Diego.

"I know," Diego whispered to him, "but at least they won't find anything: I gave Victoria the papers last night."

Felipe had felt relieved to have Diego back safe and sound but was disappointed that he didn't find the little girl. Yet.

Earlier in the morning, the young man had come back from the pueblo totally convinced that Diego had fathered a child he had been hiding all these years. He had sought the quiet of the cave to brood alone and in peace, but when he had felt ready to go back to the world and to his daily chores, he had found himself trapped behind the fireplace: Don Alejandro was in the library with a lady guest. Felipe waited, hoping for them to leave, but as their conversation went by, he slowly realised what exactly it was about. At first, he couldn't believe what he was hearing, but everything gradually started to make sense in his mind: the girl bearing the de la Vega name, her striking resemblance with Diego, her dimples that were Don Alejandro's and _not_ Diego's, her black hair that was her mother's and _not_ Diego's... Suddenly Felipe saw Don Alejandro's frequent 'business trips' to San Diego in a whole new light!

Oh, dear... Don Alejandro had had a 'love child'. And had managed to keep that secret for years right under his very nose! And to think that Felipe prided himself to be the best spy in the territory!

Felipe was still trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Don Alejandro had a hidden daughter – not to mention the horrible fact that this child had been kidnapped – when Diego joined Señora Valdès in the sala.

"I'm terribly sorry, Señora, a splitting headache, I had to go lie down a bit."

"Your young servant told me," Araceli simply answered, not really paying attention. "Or at least I thought that's what he meant. I hope you're doing better," she added absent-mindedly.

"Oh, here you are, Diego," Don Alejandro told him, coming from the vestibule.

"Father, you're back!"

"Yes, but we'll go on with the search in one hour. De Soto said we'd need more men so that we can split into two or more groups and cover a larger area."

_Great_, Diego grunted inwardly. More patrols to avoid this afternoon!

"So you haven't found anything..." he asked.

Don Alejandro sighed. "No."

Araceli lowered her head, weighed down with worry.

"This waiting is killing me," she said. "After all, I might be going with you..."

"No!" Don Alejandro flatly objected. "That could be dangerous."

"All the more reason for you not to go either," she retorted.

The housekeeper entered to announce that lunch was ready.

"I'm not hungry," Araceli said. "I couldn't swallow one bite."

"You need your full strength for her when she'll be back home," Diego gently told her, "and starving yourself won't help her."

"Throwing up won't make her come back earlier either, Don Diego," she retorted matter-of-factly.

This woman decidedly had a knack for disconcerting him, he thought.

"Alejandro, can you lend me a horse?" she asked.

"You're not joining the search and that's flat," he retorted.

"Don't start being pig-headed, Alejandro."

"Huh, that's the pot calling the kettle black!" he replied straight back

_Oh dear Lord_, Diego thought, they were at it again!

"Father, Señora, please, I don't think bickering will help anyone..."

They both sighed.

"You're right Diego, of course" his father said. "I'm afraid we're both on edge..."

"Quite understandable, Father. Let's go and eat something, even if no one is really hungry here..."

"I won't have lunch," Araceli said, "don't wait for me."

Felipe spotted the soldiers come from the kitchen where they certainly just had lunch themselves: at least those three weren't put off their food!

Something suddenly buzzed unpleasantly in Felipe's mind. He searched his memory... If the three soldiers had been in the kitchen, then who did break some bibelot near the bedrooms five minutes ago?

Quietly, he left the sala.

"I still think our best chance is to set a trap tonight in that canyon," Araceli said. "But until then..." she added, her voice breaking, "oh _Dios_, she must be so frightened!"

Don Alejandro reached for her hand and squeezed it. His own eyes were full of tears he was stubbornly choking back.

Suddenly, Felipe was insistently tugging at his sleeve. Regaining some composure, he turned to the boy:

"Yes Felipe? What is it?"

Felipe signalled at them to follow him and led all three of them to Don Alejandro's bedroom. Once inside, they could see that the window was broken, and on the bed lay the cause for that: a fist-sized parcel wrapped in a yellowed sheet of newspaper.

Don Alejandro quickly unwrapped it: inside was a stone, and another piece of white paper was folded and wrapped around it. But what held his attention was a fistful of six inches long silky and wavy black material. Don Alejandro blanched as he recognised Leonor's wild mop of hair tied with the blue ribbon she was wearing in the morning. He clenched his shaking fist around it as Araceli gasped in horror. She rushed to him:

"Show me! Alejandro, show me!"

He reluctantly let go of his daughter's hair. The distraught mother slowly and reverently rose the raven-black locks to her mouth and kissed it, then she buried her nose in it to breath in what remained of her daughter's scent.

She suddenly remembered the other piece of paper and unfolded it. Reading what was written on it, she gasped even louder than before. Diego saw his father struggle to decipher the message, as Araceli's hand was shaking hard. Then she dropped it on the bedspread and Diego picked it up.

_"This time, only hair. Tomorrow a finger"_

Oh _Dios_!

Diego saw his father cross the room to his secretaire and open a secret drawer he didn't know existed. Don Alejandro's trembling hands pulled another paper out of it. He compared the two:

"That's the same handwriting," he simply stated.

Diego and Araceli both came closer to have a look at this other letter. Stuck on top of it was a newspaper cutting: an article in a Monterey's newspaper announcing the death of the King's emissary Don Gilberto Risendo. A whole sentence was underlined: _'Don Gilberto happened to be the son of Don Alejandro de la Vega, well-known landowner of Los Angeles and important figure of the local community; our sympathy goes to Don Alejandro and to his only remaining child Don Diego de la Vega.'_

The words _'only remaining child'_ had been heavily circled with red ink.

Under this newspaper cutting a dozen lines had been hastily scribbled in a rather hesitant handwriting:

_"A love child can be a cumbersome godsend. I don't think your 'only remaining child' would be too happy to discover he's not as 'only' as he thinks. Don Diego might not like learning of your six years old cute little dark secret._

_If you don't want the whole of Los Angeles to become aware of your lecherous slip and its consequences, it will cost you one thousand pesos. One thousand pesos is not too much for salvaging a reputation and a father-son relationship._

_Someone will come and collect the money. No tricks: if he doesn't come back with it, your dirty little secret will be out. All over California._

_Post Scriptum: Sorry for your loss. Condolences"_

So, Diego thought, _this_ was what really triggered his father's sudden decision to tell him about Leonor... But he'll think about it later, he decided as his eyes fell on the tuft of dark hair lying on the bed. What mattered right now was the girl herself, and her fate. And also preventing Don Alejandro from going wild, wreaking havoc and putting himself at risk.

"Father," he said as he handed him the message that had been thrown through the window, "I think you should go and show this to the alcalde. Right now."

"Hmph..." he grunted, "the alcalde..."

"I think he's right, Alejandro, listen to him," Araceli told him.

And as his father reluctantly agreed, Diego peeked outside the window. This time, luck was on their side: he spotted a set of hoofprints on the ground.


	7. Ch 7 - Araceli

**Chapter 7 - Araceli**

After making sure his father had gone to see the alcalde, Diego had sighed in relief: at least Don Alejandro wouldn't go on a search on his own after opening this very disturbing parcel. Dealing with his father's impulsiveness was always trying, but this time the very personal circumstances were making things even worse for the troubled elderly father. At least, Diego was reassured: just like in the morning, Sergeant Mendoza would keep a close eye on Don Alejandro this afternoon.

Behind Señora Valdès's back, Felipe gestured to him: he was going to saddle Tornado again. Diego noticed that the señora was holding her daughter's locks of hair tightly in her hand, her gaze lost somewhere beyond the horizon through the broken glass panel of the window. He made sure she was taken care of by her maid Concepcion, and then discreetly left them to take the secret passage to Zorro's cave.

Zorro had followed the tracks left by the rider who threw the stone and the message through the window. They led him to a hill a few miles from the hacienda; but it was hard to tell the real distance, since the rider took a wide detour to avoid the pueblo.

And here they were. Three men, and a tied-up and gagged child. Hidden behind a bush some hundred yards from them, Zorro was watching them. They were positioned as to form a triangle. Closer from Zorro was a man dressed in dark brown clothes who was standing beside the child, a pistol in his hand but not aimed at her. Another grey-clad armed man was near two saddled horses on the left. And on the right a third man dressed in light brown seemed rather agitated. All three of them were wearing a scarf over their nose, tied at the back of their head, so that their faces were hidden. All that could be seen of them was the eyes and part of the forehead, between the top of the scarf and the hat. Zorro heard another horse whinny, probably the third man's horse. Since they were shouting, he could understand what they were saying: they seemed to be arguing.

"That was a really stupid thing to do," the man near Leonor was saying, pointing a finger at the third one. "That wasn't part of the plan."

"I'm sure the old fogey needed some persuasion," he replied.

"And you didn't need to cut the girl's hair either, really!" the second man added, not listening to what the other objected.

"Well," he retorted, "I'm not the one who gagged her!"

"Her constant cries and whines were getting on my nerves, she'll recover from it," the man in grey argued, shrugging.

"And her hair will grow long again," his accomplice retorted. "If everything goes according to the plan, that is..."

"You should have referred to me before taking any kind of initiative!" the first one who appeared to be their leader shouted. "Did you at least think about covering your tracks?"

"Oh come on, there's nothing to get all worked up about!" the beige-clad man objected. "By now they must be too worried about their little princess here to think about either hunting us down or trying to fool us!"

"I'd really like to have your naive optimism," the man in grey told him, "but I'm afraid we now have to break camp and clear off to another hiding place..."

"Of course we have to," the boss agreed, "thanks to mister Big-Brain here," he added pointing at the beige-clad man on his right. "And this time we'll carefully cover our tracks."

"I swear you," the man on the left said, "if any of us gets caught because of your stupidity, don't expect us to cover for you: your name will be the first given to–"

"That's enough!" the leader cut in in a commanding voice.

Humm, Zorro thought, he doesn't want infighting and discord within the group... "Divide and rule", they say: this trouble in paradise could favour Zorro. The major danger was for one of them to use the girl as a hostage, to threaten to harm her, or to unwillingly hurt her while fighting. Which meant that he'd had to neutralise the one who was guarding her while the other two would be busy doing something else with their backs to him.

Spotting a rock a bit ahead of him to hide behind he got closer from them, in order to have a better aim: his plan was to come close enough to disarm their leader with his whip while the other two were not paying attention, and then to either fight them too or to just catch the girl and whistle for Tornado to come and then, back home!

He was about to do exactly that when an unexpected event, a hitch, occurred in his plan: he saw a horse gallop to them, coming from the bottom of the hill. No! that wasn't the good time for that! He had to act quickly before the bandits noticed it too! But at this exact moment, he was taken aback as he recognised his mare Esperanza.

Esperanza, mounted by a flurry of frilly sky-blue something. And before he could recover from his stupefaction, Señora Valdès had dismounted, a pistol in each hand aimed at each of the two bandits on both sides. She coldly but firmly told the third one, the one keeping watch over the child:

"Release my daughter, or your two friends will die before you have time to move an eyelash!"

_Oh, no,_ Zorro thought. Her interference was derailing his plans. Diego had spent the last hours fearing that his father's hot temper and reckless attitude might mess things up and put him at risk, and out of the two parents it was finally the mother who did something stupid and rash like attacking bandits one-to-three and unprepared. What happened to not going on a solitary search? What happened to calming down, keeping a cool head and not doing anything rash?

Well, Diego knew what happened: she saw her daughter's cut hair and a message promising to harm her. That was quite a disturbing sight, along with an even more disturbing promise; all the more so that the message was laconic and lapidary. Short and sharp.

And in Araceli's mind, the cool-headed and rational part had finally been overtaken by the instinctive and immediately responsive part of her being. The ratio between the two had been inverted. Understandably so.

But that was a problem for Zorro in the current situation.

And what's more, he recognised with horror the pistols in her hands: on the right, some very old collector's handgun that usually adorned the study's mantelpiece, and on the left she was holding a finely decorated antique pistol which had belonged to Don Alejandro's father in his youth.

The first one was only harmless, as Diego knew the flint was lacking: she wouldn't shoot at anything with that one. But the second one was more worrying: his grandfather's pistol was a keepsake, a family heirloom, but it was so outdated that it hadn't been fired for at least thirty years. The odds were high that it wouldn't fire at all either, but there was also a significant risk that the gun might just explode in her face.

_Oh, Dios,_ what a mess she was unknowingly making of all this!

On the ground, the little girl was wriggling, struggling with her bonds, having recognised her mother. Despite her gag, she was trying to shout something that sounded a bit like "Mamá!"

The bandit dressed in grey barked to the one on the opposite side:

"You see what you've done? You've led her straight to us, you moron!"

Suddenly a fourth masked man Zorro hadn't noticed before suddenly and silently appeared right behind Señora Valdès and grabbed her, knocking one of her pistols out of her hand. The man in the grey suit made the most of her short moment of distraction to disarm her of her second pistol, and despite the reversal of circumstances Zorro let out a breath of relief: at least Araceli wouldn't unintentionally blow up the worn-out gun in her own face.

Her two weapons now lay on the ground, and in a flash two of the bandits were aiming their guns at Leonor and a third one was taking aim at her mother with his pistol while the fourth man was holding the woman, twisting her right arm behind her back in a hammerlock.

A black horse then calmly came trotting from behind a rock, along with another white one. Four bandits, and four horses in total. Let's just hope that was all, Zorro thought.

"I don't think I'll release your daughter right now, Señora," the brown-clad leader told her, still aiming his weapon at the child. "With all due respect, I'll ask you to leave her with us some more time; after all we still need her for some business deal, don't we? As a matter of fact, it all depends on your... your _old_ flame..."

The other three burst out laughing at the dubious pun.

"Then keep me instead of her and let her go!" she offered straight back.

"Well," the man answered, "I'm sorry but a daughter is worthier than a former sweetheart." He paused. "Or even a current one, come to think of that," he added flippantly. "And a young child is far less troublesome than an adult, so thank you but we'll pass. Your daughter is lighter than a feather and my horse doesn't feel any difference when I take her with me to ride pillion... No offend intended, Señora."

"None taken," she grumbled through greeted teeth.

The man who was holding her in a hammerlock was keeping her arm pinned against her back with his right arm and encircling her with his left one clasped around her, keeping her locked flat against him. From her shoulders to her waist, she couldn't move at all.

Suddenly, right against his left hand – the one wrapped around her chest – the man holding her noticed... something. Something soft and rounded and cushiony. Here, right against his palm, the tip of his fingers gently sinking into its warmth and softness... With this same hand he then stroked and felt and kneaded and fondled and groped, an eyebrow suggestively arched high over his eye and a crooked smile on his face.

She froze and tensed, her eyes growing wide, her breath catching.

"Well well well," he said, "the old lech is a man of taste... He did all right for himself, the lucky bugger!"

With a sharp move of his head, he managed to make the red scarf hiding his features fall under his chin, and he slowly ran the tip of his nose up and down the side of her exposed neck, breathing against her skin. Her features sharpened and froze in distaste.

The man then replaced his nose with his moist lips. This time she screwed her face in clear disgust, still as a statue.

"I wish we could spend some good time alone together, sweetheart," he murmured in her ear. "You'd surely have more fun than the dirty old man ever gave you..."

And this time he downright licked her neck.

Against her better judgement, she couldn't bear any more of that: Zorro saw her sharply jerk her head backwards, headbutting the man hard.

Surprised and under the impact, the man stumbled backwards, releasing his hold on her. She tried to hit him in the ribs with her elbow, but he was already too far behind her and she just touched him lightly in the chest. He raised a hand to his aching nose, but incensed by the pain and the damaged done to his pride, he threw a punch at her cheek. She fell backwards on the ground, rolling in the dust. Her fancy dress, already mussed by the wild ride, was now a real mess. In her fall, the bottom of her skirts hiked up, letting her white silken-clad calves show from her ankles up to her knees.

Each of the four bandits reacted immediately: the two guarding the child tightened their hold on their guns, the man in grey got closer from the señora, holding her at gunpoint, while the fourth man, still recovering from the blow she gave him and hiding his face again with his scarf drew his pistol and aimed it at her too.

The situation became more complicated for Zorro to take action. He could easily neutralise one man, probably two in a same move, but not four in two different places at the same time. If he attacked the two bandits threatening the child, the other two would have time to pull the trigger and shoot her mother. And if he freed the woman first, he wouldn't have time to do anything more before the two remaining men could harm little Leonor.

That was an even trickier situation than a few seconds before. It was really too risky to intervene.

"Wrong move, querida," the man with the red scarf told Araceli, still holding her at gunpoint, "but I'm a good boy and I'm all for giving you a second chance. Are you sure you don't want a special cuddle with me? I can be extra gentle, if that's what makes you get wet... Or a bit rough, if that's what makes you get off... Whatever you like, pretty!"

Still lying on the ground, she shuddered in revulsion and flinched a bit.

"No?" the man went on with a snigger. "Sure? Well, you have no idea what you're missing out on, love. Too bad for you!"

"That's quite enough!" the gang leader's voice sharply cut in. "I'm sorry Señora," he then added graciously, "I must ask you to forgive my associate, some people just don't have manners and don't know how to address a lady of quality nor to watch their language in the presence of a child..."

And the child in question was indeed silently sobbing through her gag. No doubt that seeing her mother being hit in the face distressed the girl greatly.

"Gallantry would normally command that I should offer you my arm to help you up," the leader went on, "but you'll understand that considering the situation and the demonstration you've just given us of what kind of nasty tricks you're capable of, we'll keep our distance. My apologies about that, Señora, but safety prevails."

She sat up, taking a look around herself, but she didn't stand.

"I have an offer," she announced. "Co–... come to think about it... I might have a deal to propose..."

"I don't think you're in any position to negotiate, Señora."

"Who talks about _negotiation_, here?" she said in a very self-assured voice. "I'm talking _business_!"

She paused. The four men waited, curious against their better judgement to know what she'd have to offer.

"Here is the deal," she went on. "I..."

She paused again.

"You let my daughter go on my horse here," she said showing Esperanza, "and once I'm sure she's safe, let's say... in half an hour..." she paused again, then took a deep breath to give herself some courage, "then I... I let you do whatever you want with me. I... I could even be... be quite... cuddly, if that's what you..."

But her whole physical attitude showed enough how repulsed she felt at this idea. She failed at totally suppressing a shudder. She nonetheless tried to conceal it and put on a brave face.

"So?" she asked, defiantly holding her head high.

"Well," the brown-clad leader answered, "I would hate for you to think we disregard the quality of what you're offering, Señora, but despite what you seem to be thinking, we're not the kind of men who'd take advantage of a woman. But please don't take this as an insult to your charms, I think I can talk on behalf of all my associates here to assure you they're quite appealing."

The red-scarfed man, the one who'd been precisely holding, groping and teasing her a few seconds before told her:

"If you're not truly ready to have fun and enjoy yourself, it's just not fun for me either... I don't get off from forcing myself on anyone who doesn't really want me!"

"And anyway, as otherwise pleasant an undoubtedly enjoyable what you have to offer seems to be, I don't think it's worth eight thousands pesos. We're here on a certain business, Señora, and we fully intend it to be handled on _our_ terms. After all, business is business, I'm sure you of all people can understand that, Señora. But we pay tribute to your motherly devotion and abnegation."

He paused.

"So in short," he concluded, "thank you for the tempting offer but the answer is no."


	8. Ch 8 The fox, the horse and the she-wolf

**Chapter 8 – The fox, the horse and the she-wolf**

After rejecting the deal Araceli had just offered, the gang leader addressed the man in grey: "Watch her closely!"

The man obeyed and took a step closer to her, tightening his grip on his gun.

"And you," the leader told the man with the red scarf, "got get some rope from the saddlebags. And you, Señora," he went on, "will slowly raise your hands high up... yes, just like that" he added as she complied. "Don't forget that my pistol is less than two feet from your lovely daughter and is aimed right at her... Now you will slowly stand up to your feet... That's good... My associate here will tie your hands, so now lower your right arm behind your back... very well, now do the same with the left one..."

She was white-faced under the dust and the sweat covering her right cheek, while her left cheek was still red from the punch the man gave her a few minutes before.

"Tie her wrists together!" the boss ordered him. "And you," he told her, "no trick! We've seen what you're capable of, but don't forget about my pistol and your daughter!"

Araceli obediently let herself be tied up. Then the bandit kicked one of her antique pistols in a narrow stream flowing a few feet from them. A totally useless precaution since it was the collector's gun which firing system was missing, but no one but Zorro could have known that. Her other pistol was nowhere to be seen: they hadn't noticed that it had been thrown in a nearby bush when the man had kicked it off her hand a few minutes before.

"What are we going to do with her now?" the man dressed in beige asked.

"Perhaps you should have thought about it _before_ you led her to us!" the man in grey retorted.

"What's done is done!" the gang leader cut in.

"We can't take her with us, she'd slow us down."

"Well, we could just..." the man in grey said, not finishing his sentence but making a very evocative gesture with his pistol. "That way we wouldn't be bothered!"

Her eyes grew wide in horror.

"W– w– wait!" the man in beige shouted. "That's never been the plan! There's never been any question about..."

"Well," the other replied, "that was before _you_ brought her here with your stupid initiative! Now we just have to adapt. You can only blame yourself for her fate!"

"Enough with that!" their leader said. "Fortunately for the señora, we won't have to resort to that. You!" he called the red-scarfed brigand, "make her horse go."

Keeping his pistol in his right hand, he took off one of the spurs of his boots and placed it inside his palm. Then he delivered a huge and resounding slap on Esperanza's hindquarters with this hand. The poor mare reared up, neighing in protest, after what she bolted and ran off at full gallop.

"And now, boys, time to hit the road again!"

Two men mounted first while the other two kept their guns at the two hostages. Then the leader handed the little girl to 'red-scarf', and he mounted in his turn, as did the last man.

All along, Araceli couldn't take her eyes off her daughter. She pleaded for them to let her go, repeatedly called the girl's name in a heartbreaking voice and promised to give them everything they asked for if they released Leonor right then, but it was to no avail.

"What we ask for is eight thousand pesos tonight. Nothing more, nothing less. Eight thousand pesos. Repeat this to de la Vega. Now have a nice walk back, it will only be two hours to Los Angeles, I guess."

And with a teasing and overly polite bow to her, they ran off. One of them even briefly looked back to blow her a kiss before catching up with the others.

Zorro began to breathe again: now the kidnappers only had one hostage left. Things would be far easier for him. He wasn't too worried for Señora Valdès; after all the man had been right: she would just have to walk back to the pueblo. Not the most chivalrous thing to think, but right now the priority was Leonor. The señora would certainly agree. And with any luck, he could even free the child and catch up with her mother on the way back.

But as he was about to mount on Tornado's saddle in order to follow the gang of abductors, he noticed something from the corner of his eye: as soon as the men had left, Araceli had gone to her discarded remaining pistol lying on the ground at the foot of a bush, and despite her tied hands she tried to grab the worn-out shooter. It wasn't easy since her hands were behind her back and she wasn't seeing anything of what she was doing.

_Of course!_ Zorro thought: the deafening sound of a gunshot in the silence of the desert wouldn't fail to alert any patrol she knew were currently searching the vicinity of Los Angeles. She probably just hoped one of these wasn't too far from there.

Except she didn't know that if she ever managed to fire the gun, there was a possibility that it might just explode in her back, killing or seriously injuring her.

Zorro's priority suddenly changed, and he rushed to her.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

After having been attacked from behind, groped, held at gunpoint, punched in the face, after having seen her daughter be threatened by two pistols, after having been tied up and abandoned in the desert by a gang of brigands who took her child away from her, Araceli saw a giant black-clad masked and armed bandit suddenly pounce on her while she was kneeling on the ground, half tied up. She screamed, called for help, struggled, writhed, bit, and eventually tried to headbutt him, but after he managed to knock the pistol out of her tied hands she finally noticed that he let go of her and even took a step back.

That's when she realised he had been talking to her all along:

"...God's sake, Señora, calm down! I swear I mean no harm! Please calm down, I won't hurt you..."

"Leave me alone! Go!" she shouted.

"Señora, please, listen to me! I just want to help you!"

"Go away!"

"Señora..."

But despite her panic, she noticed that the man had a gun at his belt, a scabbard with a sword, a dagger in each of his boots and even a whip. The man could swear whatever he wanted, these 'details' didn't contribute to reassuring her.

Even less so when she saw him put his hand to his boot and pull a sharp dagger out of it.

She cringed and flinched, crying out in fear. But the man in black reached behind her; she felt a sharp tug, and suddenly her hands were free.

She didn't understand. But she remembered the other dagger: in a flash she reached to his other boot and quickly took the knife out of it. But the man had excellent reflexes and she didn't have time to threaten him with it before he knocked it out of her hand.

But she didn't concede defeat just yet and started pummelling him. He quickly caught her wrists and easily immobilised her hands, without even breaking a sweat. _Dios,_ she thought, _he was strong!_

"For God's sake, Señora, hear me out! I'm here to help you, not to attack you! I know what this looks like, but appearances are deceptive: I'm on your side. And on Don Alejandro's. I'm here to help your daughter..."

She watched him, her jaw tight.

"You're hurting me," she then simply told him, wincing.

He stupidly looked at her, and then suddenly realised he'd been squeezing her wrists very tightly. He released her and helped her up.

"Sorry about that," he said.

Apparently she recovered very quickly since she immediately threw a punch in his face, calling him a liar.

_Ow,_ it hurt. That woman was quite a handful, he sighed inwardly.

He grabbed her wrists again and pinned her hands behind her back to immobilise her arms, thereby encircling her with his own arms. That move propelled her forward flat against his chest, in an unintentionally very intimate position. She was now too terrorised to notice it, and he was still a bit angry at her for the blow he'd just received to pay attention to it either.

"Now you'll listen to me," he said through gritted teeth. "I'm a friend of Don Alejandro's. Or well, sort of... I know what has happened to your daughter, and with each passing second you spend fighting me the kidnappers are running away and covering their tracks. So now I will release your hands and you will let me get on my horse and run after them. Agreed?"

She eyed him suspiciously, scrutinising his black silken mask. Then she very slowly nodded. Only then did he seem to realise that her lips were only a few inches below his, and that he was pressing her very womanly body against his. This was a highly ambiguous and very improper position, even more so as he remembered that Señora Valdès was his father's... what, exactly?

Well, he decided he didn't want to know anything more precise about his father and this woman. Knowing that they had conceived a child together a few years earlier was disturbing enough, thank you very much.

He hastily let go of her wrists and took a big step back. And another one.

She looked at him questioningly:

"Are you... are you really trying to bring her back to me?"

"I swear it, Señora. I'm sorry I can't give you a ride to the de la Vega hacienda right now, but..."

He whistled. Nothing happened. He whistled again, another 'tune'. Araceli saw a horse, a magnificent black stallion, trot to him. He whispered something in his ear. The horse ran off and soon came back with Don Diego's mare in tow!

"I thought she'd have run back home to the de la Vega hacienda!" Araceli said.

"Hmm..." he answered, "sometimes wounded animals just hide to lick their wounds..."

They took a look at her hindquarters: a small cut was bleeding, but she otherwise seemed to be alright. The man in black whispered some soothing words in the mare's ear and she laid her head on his shoulder. Araceli thought that this animal was really very docile and gentle. Very trusting.

The bandit in black whispered again to the mare and then told Araceli that Don Diego's horse would bring her back to the pueblo.

She was about to bend down to pick up the ancient pistol when the man lashed his whip at it and sent it join its counterpart in the water.

"You– you– you... You could have hurt me!" she shouted.

"Sorry Señora, but I'm afraid this relic is more dangerous for the one who's pulling the trigger than for the one who's being shot at..."

He swiftly helped her on the saddle, then he mounted his stallion. He noted that she sat astride and not sidesaddle. Her skirt was torn in at least three places and on two to five inches long each.

"We now go our separate ways Señora," the black man went on, "and when you see Don Alejandro, give him Zorro's regards... But if you see the alcalde or his soldiers, please don't tell them you saw me: we're not on the best of terms... _Hasta luego_, if we ever meet again!"

And he simply rode off in the same direction as the kidnappers.


	9. Ch 9 - Zorro to the rescue

**Chapter 9 – Zorro to the rescue**

The kidnappers had been riding for a quarter of an hour before Zorro joined them: they had ridden in no haste, since they didn't think they were being immediately followed, and also because they had been covering and erasing their tracks.

But Zorro had seen what direction they had taken when they left, so he just had to follow this path and then spot here and there a hoof print or any clue that they didn't fully took care of in their unplanned new retreat and relative hurry to find a new temporary bivouac: some broken twigs on a bush, some too evident trace of sweeping on the dirt path, intended to hide the prints left by horseshoes, some sideway narrow path that seemed to have been cleared or enlarged very recently...

And here they were: the four men on their four mounts, with the tied-up child straddling the second horse and secured by the rider's right arm firmly encircling her.

The first bandido, the gang leader, was leading the march with a pistol in his hand, probably in case something unpleasant for them showed up ahead. The second one, as said before, was in charge of their little but precious hostage. The third one too was holding a gun, and the last one was half-turned back, busy watching the erasing of their hoof prints by a bunch of small branches, twigs and dry wild grasses bound together in a makeshift broom tied to his mount's tail. The horse was sweeping it from side to side, and the man had another branch of twigs with dried leaves in his hand with which he was furthering the covering of their tacks when necessary, making the dust of the ground look more natural whenever the horse was leaving too much of a trail behind them.

Zorro quickly assessed the situation: four men advancing slowly, one busy looking back and down, two armed, one holding a hostage.

He couldn't attack from front, for fear the second man might harm the little girl while he was busy fighting the first one. Or he could very well take a bullet by the third man...

He couldn't attack from either side: the two armed men would have fired at him before he reached them, or would have harmed the girl.

The only remaining possible course of action was to attack from behind, even though he was usually rather reluctant to do so: it lacked elegance, courage, and generally speaking, _chivalry_, but sometimes safety and wisdom commanded over just showing off, so he resorted to this undignified strategy.

He had to discreetly neutralize the last two men one by one, unnoticed by the other bandits, so that he can then either reach the child, snatch her from her kidnappers and gallop away with her, or fight and disarm quickly enough the last two men.

And he started to do just that. The last bandit got down his mount to better mask their change of direction when at a crossroads they took a narrow side path meandering up the hills. The man arranged the bushes along the main road so that the entry of the path wasn't visible, or at least didn't appear to have recently been ridden through. Zorro jut made the most of him being isolated and off guard to quickly and silently neutralise him, taking the time to gag him with his own scarf and to tie his hands and feet with the bridles of his own saddle.

Now he had to act before the three other men noticed their accomplice's absence was too long for just setting and checking the camouflage.

As silently as before, he led Tornado up to just behind the third bandit, who was a bit too much on alert for his liking. He'd had to be fast, he knew that.

But _'more haste, less speed'_, according to the old saying. And he also remembered Emperor Augustus and the Medicis: _'make haste slowly'_. _Festina lente,_ indeed. So, still riding Tornado, he very slowly and silently drew his sword out of his scabbard and transferred it to his left hand; then with his left hand he took hold of his whip while Tornado was walking on his own behind the third man's horse.

By command of his legs only, Zorro urged him to a trot and led him right beside the last horse. There, using the tip of his sword he quickly pierced the hand with which the third bandit was holding his gun while with a single lash of his whip he disarmed the first one. Making the most of the three men's surprise, he swiftly jumped on the second bandit's horse right behind the man, took a solid hold of the little girl and, punching the man, he forcibly made him dismount. Or rather, he threw him off his mount.

Holding the girl tightly against his chest with one arm and his sword in the other hand, he tried to urge the horse in gallop. But that horse was no Tornado, and wasn't accustomed to him either, so it didn't comply; and since Zorro had his hands otherwise occupied and had still not managed to take hold of the reins, the animal managed to finally get rid of his new unexpected and annoying rider by rearing up.

Zorro and the child fell to the ground. The man did his best to shield the girl from the impact, folding his tall body into a ball, hugging her close to his chest and protecting her head with his arms and hands. Reacting immediately, he grabbed his sword and had to release his grip on the girl to get up on his feet, in a defensive stance. A few feet away from him Leonor, still gagged and her hands tied behind her back, tried to let out a shout; but it was muffled by her gag and it turned into a terrified throaty growl. Her eyes were wide with fear and she tried to get on her feet and run away but she tripped and fell down on the dusty ground.

Zorro quickly assessed the situation. The bandit he had injured was holding his hand and crouched down, whimpering and trying to tend to his wound. This one was no immediate danger to him.

The one who was previously holding the child was still on the ground but had drawn his pistol and was trying to aim at him. Zorro rolled to the side to dodge the bullet that followed its course somewhere up the hill. The man then discarded his now useless pistol and drew his sword, trying to get up. But he must have hurt his leg in his fall since he couldn't stand on his feet and tripped with a wince before falling on his knees with a cry of pain.

The last man had retrieved his pistol in a bush and in addition had picked up Zorro's whip. With a well aimed lash he disarmed the Fox of his sword and held him in respect with his gun.

"I don't have the first idea who the hell you are," he told Zorro, "but the young senorita here is _ours_. You'll have to find your own rich hostage if you want to play this game! Now I leave you the choice: be on your way or die."

And as if to stress his words, he flexed a bit his index finger on the trigger, in a clear indication of what he intended to do if the man in black didn't comply.

Meanwhile, the other bandit had wobbled to him and had now the tip of his sword on Zorro's neck. Fortunately, the third bandit was still busy trying to stop the bleeding of his half skewered hand and wasn't paying them any attention.

Still, this was a tricky situation for Zorro. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the little girl doing her best to stand up without the help of her tied hands and trying to walk away. The kidnappers too saw her.

"Hey!" the man with the pistol shouted at her, "stay here, little one!"

To punctuate his command, he gave a whiplash in her way. Zorro noticed the man took great care to aim it a good six or seven feet ahead of her; interesting, he thought: the man didn't want to hurt her, as it seemed, but only meant to scare her.

And it worked: she stopped dead in her track.

But this short interlude gave Zorro the diversion he needed: making the most of the two men being distracted by the girl's attempt to flee, he swiftly did a back flip to escape the man's blade; on landing, h plunged his right hand in his boot and took out one of his knives which he threw at the other man's left hand: the latter dropped his pistol and gave a lash off the whip at the man in black. But Zorro dodged it by diving to the side, retrieving his sword in the same movement. He very quickly disarmed the limping man of his blade and punched him in the guts to knock the wind out of his lungs for a few seconds. In the mean time he jumped to the last bandit and pierced his right hand to make him drop the whip, after what he cut his customary Z mark in the man's jacket.

Before the man had recovered he picked up any weapon, gun, knife, sword or else they had to prevent them from using these on him – or on the girl. He then whistled to Tornado: he always had some rope in his saddlebags, just in case.

But just as he turned back to the kidnappers he had just defeated, he saw that the three remaining men had recovered enough and had already mounted their horses: before he could do anything else, he heard their leader shout:

"_¡__Vámonos__muchachos! _Strategic retreat!"

And when Zorro was back on Tornado's saddle, they were already gone.

He was about to run after them when he spotted the child crouched on the ground, growling through her gag and wriggling to free her hands from the ropes. She looked shocked, and lost, and terrified.

On the one hand, three bandits running way...

On the other hand, a lost and terrified little girl...

Zorro felt torn. His natural element was his fight against crime, at least when he was wearing this mask and outfit, so running after the bandits seemed almost like a reflex to him. But even though the girl was now out of danger, something inside him was telling him that leaving a frightened child alone in the middle of nowhere, even for only a few minutes, wasn't the done thing. He suddenly had a flash of a terrified little boy crying in the middle of what had recently been a battlefield. At that time he had almost instinctively known what to do, on the moment. He looked at the direction the kidnappers had just taken, hesitated for on more second, and then sighed. Sometimes playing the hero wasn't the best choice.

Reluctantly, he decided to stay with her and bring her back right then rather than run after her abductors. Slowly dismounting from Tornado, he looked at her. She was now standing in the middle of the path, unmoving, at a loss as to what to do or what had happened. She was still gagged, her hands were still tied behind her back, her dress was a dusty rumpled mess; her black hair was unevenly cut above her shoulders, roughly at the level of the nape of her neck. Her eyes shone with unshed tears of fright.

Zorro looked at her intensely.

So. This was his father's illegitimate and secret daughter...

His _father's_ daughter. The thought still seemed unreal to him. This was hard to fathom. His father... so seemly... so dignified... so respectable... so proper...

His _own_ father...

These kinds of things happened everyday everywhere in the world, of course he knew that... The world, the societies were full of such situations. But... but... but it happened to _others!_ To other _families_, to others' fathers...

Only... just not to _them!_

He incredulously stared at the girl.

He ran a hand over his face, stopping when he felt the mask and remembering the current situation. With his thumb and index finger he squeezed his eyes, as though to make a mirage go away, but when he opened them again she was still there.

And suddenly, another thought came to his mind. He marvelled at the fact that he hadn't made the connection before, that it didn't occur to him earlier: if this child was his father's daughter, then it necessarily made her his... his...

_Oh Dios! _He had a little sister!


	10. Ch 10 - Silent ride

**Chapter 10 – Silent ride**

Zorro was riding Tornado slowly, aware of the stiffness of the child sitting right before him. He could feel that he girl was very tense, even though she wasn't shouting anymore and had finally stopped struggling against him. She now seemed to have resigned herself to whatever her fate was to be, but he could tell she still didn't trust him, trust his words of reassurance as to her safety with him.

At first, just like her mother, she had been afraid of him and had tried to fight him, when all he was trying to do was to help her. He freed her from her ropes and her gag, only to have her scream out and try to run away. Of course he quickly caught up with her before she had made only a dozen steps and he tried to explain that he didn't mean any harm, that he was here to help her. She didn't believe him or didn't even listen, called for her mother, then for her – _their_ – father; she flailed about and even tried to scratch with her small nails whatever part of his face wasn't covered. She began struggling and wriggling in his arms, to no avail of course: her poor six-years-old strength was no match for Zorro's grip. He tried to be as gentle as possible though, and that's only when he promised her he was going to bring her back to her parents, to her father's home, that she finally seemed to give up the fight and let him take her to his horse.

He could feel the girl was still frightened, and he knew that any brusque move could have her shouting or in tears. Or both. With a great probability that she'd try to flee again. That's why instead of urging Tornado into a gallop as he so much wanted to in order to 'deliver' her to the hacienda and to the safety of faces she was familiar with as soon as possible, he had his stallion gently and calmly walk through the desert.

At that sedate pace the ride to the hacienda would take long, he knew that. On the other hand, the pueblo wasn't too far, and de Soto and his men were probably not back there yet, so the risk for him to be caught was minimum. He could still entrust the padre with her care and ask him to bring her home: after all, she now knew him a bit, since he was the one who travelled to San Diego to expose Don Alejandro's request to Senora Valdez and explain her the reason why he thought he now had to make Leonor's existence known in Los Angeles and why now had come the time to introduce the girl to his son.

Zorro let out a sigh: he still wasn't totally at ease with that idea, far from it. How could he? This was still all too fresh and too sudden to him! He didn't know what else tell the girl apart from reassurances that he didn't mean any harm. But she was still holding herself very stiff and tense against his chest, and himself wasn't feeling terribly relaxed in her company.

Yes, the best course of action was to pay the padre a daily visit which he hoped would be as discreet as possible, and leave his young... _sibling..._ in the priest's company. The good padre would then bring her back to the hacienda, or at least send a message for someone to pick her up at the presbytery.

In a very awkward silence, the two of them slowly rode to the pueblo, with Zorro still looking out for patrols.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

Leonor barely dared breathe. She felt frightened.

In the morning, after they'd left the inn, she's been quickly showed around her papá's hacienda hand in hand with him; she had been excited to finally see where Papá lived, and he had to tell her to stop bouncing.

He had then led her to the garden. There, Papá had picked a rose and had removed all the thorns before planting it in her hair with a gentle smile on his face. Leonor remembered she had giggled when Papá had struggled with the blue ribbon tied in her long black hair. Mamá had to come help him, saying that his fingers were too used to handle the pommel of a sword or the reins of a horse, but that he severely lacked dexterity with his daughter's hair. Papá had replied that he was probably a bit nervous at the moment, but Leonor didn't understand why. Sometimes grown-ups were just plainly weird.

Then Papá had called a servant who led her and Concepcion to the bedroom she would sleep in for the duration of their stay. Leonor had taken her book and sat in an armchair while Concepcion unpacked her luggage. That's when the mean men arrived through the window. She shuddered at the memory.

A bump on the road suddenly made the big black horse jump and Leonor felt the masked man in black tighten his grip around her.

After Mamá had tried to free her and was hit by the mean man, this other bandit had attacked the mean señores, had cut her ropes, and had taken her with him.

This one was even more frightening than the others: he was taller, he was entirely clad in black from head to toes, he had a cape that made him look like a bat, and he was wearing a strange black mask. Instead of just having a scarf hiding the lower part of his face, he had a mask like the ones people wear on a masquerade ball, except it wasn't Carnaval! His mask hid the upper part of his face, leaving only his moustache, his jaw , his lips and his chin to be seen. He was terrifying.

He said he would bring her back to Mamá and Papá, and she wanted to believe him, but now she was sure it was a lie. The other men too said they didn't want to hurt her, but they had hurt Mamá; she was sure they were liars, and this other mean señor was probably a liar too.


	11. Ch 11 - The blacksmith

**Chapter 11 – The blacksmith**

Decidedly, Don Alejandro grumbled inwardly, this day was going from bad to worse! Now his mare had lost a horseshoe!

He let out a heavy sigh: for now he would have to go back to the pueblo and let the patrol carry on with the search party without him... And while he would lead Dulcinea to the blacksmith farrier, Leonor was God knows where, probably wondering why her father hasn't saved her yet!

Frustrated, he tightened his grip on the reins, feeling that his faithful mount was failing him at the worst time. Walking beside her on the way back to the pueblo, he urged her perhaps a bit too fast for a horse that was lacking a shoe.

The pueblo... The soldiers did only ride through it since the morning, without taking the time to stop there. No one would know there about Leonor's abduction, or even about her parentage. On the one hand Alejandro felt relieved: he could hardly bear the pitying looks he had been receiving since Gilberto's death, he really didn't want to feel these same look on him about his daughter's kidnapping: even in hardship, he still had his pride.

But on the other hand, if word about Leonor's abduction ran around the pueblo, there would be a great chance that it came to Zorro's ears... And Alejandro certainly could do with some help from the masked fox: he trusted him far more than de Soto and all his men to find and save his little girl.

Alejandro decided that after a stop at the blacksmith and a short prayer at the church – which certainly couldn't hurt and wouldn't go amiss – he'd go to Victoria and ask for her help: she and her tavern were the best way to spread information and have a message conveyed to Zorro. In his current grief and worry he couldn't care less about confessing his past misconduct to her, or to anyone for that matter. His priority was Leonor's safety. He didn't even think anymore about reputations or people's opinion.

He looked again at Dulcinea, resenting her a bit against his better judgement: _why did you have to fail me __**now**__?_

Sighing, he quickened his pace even more.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

Guillermo Muñoz, blacksmith by trade, could tell Don Alejandro was in a foul mood. He hardly uttered a couple of words, explaining that he wanted him to shoe his mare as fast as possible and that he would pay him twice the price for the service.

The man looked flustered and angered, and Guillermo knew better than dealing with a visibly angry Alejandro de la Vega. He therefore got to the task silently, not asking him anything, without even trying to make small talk.

And honestly, Guillermo could understand the older man's mood: yes, if himself had a son like his... Poor Don Alejandro! He looked tired, distressed and even worn-out. It was as though the man had aged ten years in one day.

Yes, poor Don Alejandro, indeed... Not only was his son a cowardly weakling, but now he had also disgraced the name of the de la Vegas by fathering a bastard – and having it now known to everyone in Los Angeles! Well, Guillermo reflected, Don Diego was far from being the only man guilty of such a lapse, and probably even here in the pueblo among caballeros and peons alike, but at least they weren't found out! Yes, bedding women was a pleasant game you could play as long as you didn't get caught...

Out of the corner of his eye, Guillermo saw another rider arrive in the pueblo. He took a better look: well well well, talking about the devil... He recognised Esperanza, Don Diego's mare; but she was mounted by the very woman who came the day before by the stagecoach! The mother of the bastard girl!

Unsurprisingly, Don Alejandro hurried to her. Guillermo couldn't hear was they told each other, but the old man became even more upset. She tiredly dismounted and fastened her horse to the hitching post; her shoulders were slumped.

She made a few steps across the plaza, accompanied by Don Alejandro. Suddenly they weren't out of earshot anymore and Guillermo could catch a few words of what they were saying. He pretended to be very focused on his task, not looking at them, but curious to learn more about the tricky situation Don Diego had put the de la Vegas in, he concentrated on his hearing:

"Yes I know this man," Don Alejandro was telling her. "Well, sort of..." he added.

She said something the blacksmith couldn't catch.

"No, I don't who he is. No one does. But if he knows, then there is hope."

"I need more than hope," she answered. "I need facts."

Don Alejandro murmured something Guillermo didn't hear.

The woman let out a heavy sigh.

"Hmm yes..." she finally reluctantly let out. "Yes I suppose you're right. That's the only thing we can do for now anyway... I'm heading to the church."

She certainly could, the blacksmith thought. A woman who had strayed... a woman with an illegitimate child... yes she certainly could do with some repentance: she had much to atone for... And anyway, now everyone would be expecting Don Diego and her to finally do the right thing and get married. As soon as possible. In fact, they should have done this _years ago!_

Yes, they'd better seek the padre right now. But why hadn't Don Diego come with her? Was his absence what had outraged Don Alejandro when he helped the woman dismount?

Surely his son wouldn't refuse to marry the woman he had disgraced, right? Granted, it was common knowledge here in Los Angeles that Don Diego wasn't much into marriage, but considering the circumstances, he now didn't have his say in the matter anymore: he simply _had_ to marry the girl.

The blacksmith sneaked a glance at them. Shocked, he finally noticed her untidy state of dress: she was dusty as though she had rolled on the ground, her hair was rather dishevelled and, to top it all, her skirt was rumpled and torn in at least two places. His eyes went wide: what on earth did just happen between her and Don Diego?

And just _where_ was he right now?

Stunned, Guillermo also noticed on her cheek the distinct mark of a reddish bruise as she passed by his forge. Surely... surely Don Diego didn't...

He wouldn't... would he? Admittedly Diego de la Vega wasn't the bravest man in Alta California, far from it; and contrary to what people had thought for a long time, he obviously wasn't the most virtuous either, after all... But still... he wouldn't sink so low as to lay a hand on a woman who wasn't his wife – _yet_.

_Don Diego,_ of all people! Don Diego, who claimed he despised violence and wouldn't hurt a fly! Something didn't ring quite right, here...

Guillermo turned his attention back to Dulcinea's hoof. He heard Don Alejandro's voice tell her, still sounding grim:

"I'll join you in the church in five minutes. I hope Padre Benitez is there, but first I have to go back to the blacksmith..."

Guillermo's mind worked full speed: the padre... Don Diego's absence... Don Alejandro joining her... to the church... to talk to Padre Benitez...

Oh, _Madre de Dios!_ It suddenly dawned on him: Don Alejandro would have to stand in for his failing son, and make an honest woman out of this fallen girl _himself!_

Yes, in the old man's mind that was probably the only remaining way to fix the situation and to save what could still be salvaged of the de la Vegas' good name... All this because his good-for-nothing of a son publicly shirked his responsibilities and wouldn't act like a man even for only once in his useless life!

Poor, poor Don Alejandro indeed. What had he done to deserve such a failure and a disgrace of a son?


	12. Ch 12 - Family reunion

**Chapter 12 – Family reunion**

Zorro was quietly riding unnoticed around the pueblo in order to reach the backdoor of the church without being seen when he spotted Dulcinea fastened to the hitching post on the plaza. And right beside her was Esperanza.

Good, both his father and the girl's mother were there. He wouldn't need the padre, after all: he could hand little Leonor over to her parents. Directly.

And as a sign, Don Alejandro was slowly crossing the plaza to his mare.

Zorro changed direction and gently urged Tornado to the pueblo's main gate.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

Victoria was wiping a table on the porch of her tavern when she heard one of her patrons comment:

"Oh, here's Don Alejandro."

"Oh, really?" another customer asked. "I saw his horse but I didn't know where he was."

"Well, he's just come out of the church."

Victoria glanced at him: he must know that his son's paternity had become public knowledge by now... Perhaps she should go to him and see how he was doing?

Wait a minute... the church?

Oh... oh, he had probably gone to the padre to arrange for his son to...

Urgh... something slightly unpleasant suddenly rolled in her stomach. She hoped she wasn't going to be unwell; she hadn't slept very well the previous night. Perhaps she was coming down with something? In fact, she had been feeling rather down the whole day, as though something was constricting her chest, weighing on her lungs and heart. And yet she had been perfectly well just the day before!

"Zorro!" someone shouted, rousing her from her sour thoughts.

She sharply looked up from the table she had been wiping for a good minute and saw her hero mounted on Tornado, right under the pueblo's gate. But he wasn't exactly alone on his horse...

He was clutching little Leonor against his chest. What did that mean?

Victoria was puzzled as to what the child was doing with him, and she then turned her gaze to Don Alejandro to seek an explanation.

She saw his eyes widen, and he opened his mouth as if to say something but no sound came out of it. His whole attention seemed to be focused on the little girl Zorro was holding close against his chest.

When she spotted Don Alejandro in the middle of the plaza, the child wriggled again in Zorro's arms. He let go of her and she let herself slide down the saddle and the black stallion's side, landing on her knees.

Not paying attention to her fall or to her scratched knees, she was quickly back on her feet and rushed to Don Alejandro, tripping twice in her race.

"Papá!" she cried out loud and clear, throwing herself in his arms with a sob.

The whole plaza went silent, with the few people there staring at the two of them with eyes as wide as saucers.

_Papá?_

Did she just call him–

_What?!_

Don Alejandro, for his part, didn't pay attention to the reaction around him: he had lifted her from the ground and was now standing in the middle of the plaza, clutching her close to his chest with his arms wrapped around her. He was holding her so tight that a leaf of paper couldn't have been slipped between them. Then he raised his head from where he had buried it in the crook of her neck and started to shower her face and hair with kisses.

"Mi cariño," he breathed, "oh, mi cariño, mi cariño," he repeated over and over.

Out of the blue, Victoria noticed that the child's black hair was much shorter – and messier – than it had been in the morning.

"Papá!" the little girl suddenly protested, "Papá, you're crushing me!"

He looked at her, as though he didn't understand what she just said, before it finally registered and he loosened his grip a bit. A _very_ slight bit.

"Sorry, cariño," he softly told her.

Suddenly Victoria saw a flash of sky-blue something rush from the front of the church an throw itself at them.

"Leonor!" Señora Valdès cried out, joining Don Alejandro in hugging and kissing her daughter. "Oh, mi amor..." she said between wet kisses and sighs.

A few tears of relief were rolling on her cheeks but she didn't seem to care or even to take notice of it. She was clutching to her daughter as if she was trying to take her from Don Alejandro's arms and have her all to herself, but he didn't let go of her and the three of them were therefore holding themselves very close, with the little girl as the link between the older man and the young mother. Again, they were both showering her with caresses, endearments and kisses.

All this had taken only a few seconds, but on the plaza it had seemed as though the time and the world had paused. The dozen people around was eagerly watching this unexpected family reunion, not completely believing what they were witnessing.

But it slowly dawned on Victoria, and probably on the others.

_Don Alejandro..._

Well... That was... _unexpected_, to say the least. Very much unexpected.

But why was this touching family gathering taking place so publicly in the middle of the plaza and what Zorro had to do with all this were two questions that none of the witnesses had the first clue about.

Suddenly Don Alejandro raised his head at the man who had brought his daughter back to him – yes, his _daughter!_

"Gracias Señor Zorro."

There was barely held back tears in his voice, and his eyes were shining with some dignified wetness.

"Mil gracias," he repeated breathily.

Zorro didn't say anything. He simply nodded gravely at him, answered with a salute and rode off before any soldier could show up.

Without even a glance at Victoria! She wondered if that meant anything. He didn't even address Don Alejandro either, at least not in the spoken form. Never before had he been so awfully silent...

Was something wrong with him?


	13. Ch 13 - Introductions

**Chapter 13 – Introductions**

"Come on, darling, we're going home," Don Alejandro told Leonor. He was still holding her in his arms and was already heading to the hitching post.

"Papá," she told him in a plaintive little voice, "I'm thirsty."

Don Alejandro and Araceli stopped short.

"They haven't given you anything to drink all day, have they?"

Leonor shook her head.

"And I had a handkerchief in my mouth," she said.

"Los cabrones!" he muttered angrily.

"ALEJANDRO!" Araceli scolded him sternly, "watch your tongue before Leonor, please!"

He closed his eyes a split second to collect himself.

"Sorry," he said shamefully, "you're right Araceli, of course. Leonor," he then told his daughter, "please forget what I have just said. It is a very bad word, and I really shouldn't have used it. Mamá and I don't want you to ever say it. Understood?"

She slowly nodded. Whatever Papá and Mamá wanted...

"I'm very thirsty," she repeated.

Her father gently stroke her head and suddenly turned on his heels, walking resolutely to Victoria's tavern.

"And I suppose they didn't feed you either..." he grumbled.

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

The tavern had been buzzing with excited conversations when they arrived, the girl still in her father's arms, but the moment they crossed the threshold there was an immediate silence.

Engrossed as they were in contemplating their daughter and fussing over her, Don Alejandro and Doña Araceli were totally oblivious to it.

"Victoria!" he called out as they sat down at a secluded table near the stairs, "lemonade, please, and a jug of water!"

"Well, personally I think I will need something a bit stronger than that," Señora Valdès said. "Bring me please the same as yesterday, Señorita..."

"Si Señora," Victoria murmured.

She quickly retreated to her counter to fetch the drinks. For once she didn't want to intrude, a feeling she rarely experienced. But she realised it was a private moment for them, even though it was taking place in a very public location, and despite her intense curiosity and wish to learn the details of this story, she refrained from imposing on her.

The child was alternatively clinging either to her mother or to Don Alejandro, the two of them nearly rivalling to cuddle her and have her in their arms. She was barely aware of her surroundings, her little world right now coming to be her mamá and her papá, the safety of their arms and the warmth of their chests.

Don Alejandro and Señora Valdès, on the other hand, were slowly becoming aware of the lingering awkwardness surrounding them. Twenty minutes after they came in, as their pitchers were almost empty and Victoria was passing by their table – mostly to discreetly eavesdrop on their quiet conversation as she'd been doing for a few minutes now – Don Alejandro called her:

"Victoria, my dear, could you please come here?"

Until then, she had managed to grasp that the girl had been kidnapped in the morning, that both her parents had been searching her all day, Don Alejandro with the soldiers and her mother on her own, and that she had finally been rescued by Zorro who had heard about it only God knew how.

"Victoria," Don Alejandro told her, straightening himself in his chair, "before we go, let me introduce..." he cleared his throat "Please meet my daughter Leonor."

Victoria could tell he was doing his best to keep his voice even and to look at her in the eyes, but she could feel that he was not terribly at ease and that his normal and almost casual tone of voice was indeed obviously forced. The man was now feeling nervous, even though he was doing his best to hide it.

"Leonor," he then told the child. "Leonor!" he repeated a bit louder to get her to tear her face away from the comforting safety of her mother's bosom. "Leonor, please meet Victoria Escalante. She is a good friend of my family."

Victoria smiled at the girl in an attempt to dispel the awkwardness of it all. She wasn't feeling totally at ease herself, faced with this very unusual situation! What did the social code of conduct say about an old friend of your parents introducing his bastard child to you?

She quickly snapped out of her perplexing thoughts:

"Encantada, Doña Leonor," she said.

The girl stared shyly at her, even though she had already met her the day before. She was feeling a bit afraid to be roused from her blissful little universe and asked to interact with strangers.

"Leonor!" her mother prompted her gently, giving her a look of warning.

"Encantada, Señora," the child finally provided, a bit reluctantly.

"I'm sorry Victoria," Don Alejandro said softly, "Normally she's not that... uh..." He paused. "I think the day has been a bit too eventful. For everyone," he added.

Victoria nodded slowly. For everyone indeed.

"And here is Señora Ximénez de Valdès," Don Alejandro went on. He didn't add that she was the child's mother, as it was very obvious. He didn't clarify the exact nature of the relationship between them either, she noted. Well, some of it was just clear enough, wasn't it?

The señora politely nodded at Victoria and then softly said:

"Well, we've been acquainted since I stayed here last night, but we hadn't been formally introduced. Encantada, Señorita."

"Encantada, Señora," Victoria simply replied. She didn't find anything else to tell her.

"Well, I think we won't be too long before taking this little one home now..." Don Alejandro said, stroking Leonor's hair.

That's when Don Diego entered the tavern in a rush. He scanned the room and when he spotted them, he went straight to their table.

"Father, are you all right? Is everyone all right? Zorro came to the hacienda, he said–"

"Everyone is all right, Diego," his father told him. "Everything is fine, once again thanks to Zorro."

Still standing in front of their table, Don Diego let out a sigh of relief.

And suddenly, Don Alejandro seemed to be sitting on pins and needles. He rearranged is stance twice, wrung his hands thrice, looked at his son hesitantly and finally cleared his throat before saying:

"Hum... Diego?"

If Don Alejandro had been ill-at-ease when he had introduced his daughter to Victoria, she could now tell that it was nothing compared with how he was feeling now that he had to do the same with Diego. The older man was clearly nervous, although he was doing his best to appear collected. Victoria knew it was her cue to leave them, so she retreated to a further table. But she kept her ears acutely focused on the de la Vegas' conversation, even throwing a glance from time to time in their direction.

"Diego, since we're now all reunited," Don Alejandro went on, "I would like you to meet Leonor."

He felt it would be ridiculous to add 'your sister' or 'my daughter', since he knew Diego had fairly well understood what the girl was to him earlier in the morning.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Leonor," Diego forced out of his mouth, even bowing a bit.

The child tentatively raised her head to look at him.

"Leonor," Don Alejandro said again, "meet Diego, my son and therefore your brother. You can see that as I told you, he is all grown up."

She quickly hid her face in her mother's bosom once again.

"Leonor!" Araceli scolded her, afraid that Don Diego might find her daughter ill-mannered.

Prompted by her mother, she finally said in a plaintive voice, with her face still buried in Araceli's chest:

"He's too tall..."

The three of them were slightly taken aback by this unexpected reply, and they stared questioningly at each other for a split second. Then Diego quickly grabbed a chair and sat down.

"I didn't grow to this height on purpose, I swear..." he gently told her.

She ventured another glance at him, and seemed to decide that all things considered, he wasn't some bogeyman of any sort. Yet for all that, she didn't really warm much to him; she was still clinging to her mother.

"Leonor," Araceli told her softly, "where are your manners?"

"Nice to meet you, Señor," the girl said at last in a feeble voice.

Diego simply acknowledged her reply with a nod of his head. Another awkward silence settled between the four of them. Don Alejandro glanced at him; his son was fidgeting with an empty glass, looking from Leonor to her mother and then from the woman to his father.

"I..." he started to say, before pausing.

"Diego, I know–"

Don Alejandro stopped when he realised how silent the tavern had gone. Some of the other customers didn't even pretend not to eavesdrop on their conversation, now. He closed his eyes, barely holding back an annoyed sigh.

"Victoria!" he then called.

She came closer to their table. Not that she had gone very far from it, anyway...

"Si, Don Alejandro?"

"Victoria, my dear," he asked her softly, "is there some place here where Diego and I could have some privacy?"

So Don Diego truly hadn't known before today, she thought. She tried hard not to judge Don Alejandro on that _too_; but did he really want to have _this_ conversation with his son _here_? A tavern was hardly the best place for a private and heart-to-heart talk on such a personal matter. But she understood that this conversation had been postponed for too long, partly due to the dreadful events of the day, and both father and son probably didn't want to delay anymore and wait to be back at the hacienda to have it.

"Si Don Alejandro," she answered, "I won't need the kitchen before at least half an hour. Or if you want, there are still a few empty bedrooms upstairs..."

"Gracias Victoria," Diego said, "the kitchen will be perfect."

The two men got up and walked away to the relative quietness of the tavern's kitchen. Araceli and Victoria looked at their retreating backs until they disappeared behind the curtain. The conversations resumed in the main room, even though some customers still threw a glance at the mother and her child from time to time.

Before Victoria went back to her counter, Araceli told her with a slightly unsure smile:

"Something is telling me this is going to take them a while; I hope you won't need your kitchen for some time..."

Victoria nodded.

"In that case," Araceli went on, "would you please bring me another Madeira? And something to eat for my daughter, she must be starving..."

"Mmm not hungry..." the child mumbled against her mother's bosom.

Araceli gave a long and loving caress on Leonor's hair and told her:

"Cariño, you must eat something! You haven't had anything since breakfast, you can't go on with an empty stomach!"

The girl shook her head resolutely.

"And come to think of that," Araceli added, "I haven't eaten anything since breakfast either... In fact, I'm starving! Señorita, could you please bring us something to eat?" She paused, before adding with a knowing smile and a wink: "Something that wouldn't require that you go to the kitchen, that is..."

"I think I have some bread and cheese here, behind my counter. Dried sausage, too. Oh, and olives!"

"Wonderful," Araceli replied.

"Aaaaannd..." Victoria added, leaning to the little girl, "I might even have some biscuits in a jar in case some child might turn up in my tavern... Have you seen any around here?"

Leonor didn't answer, but she involuntarily stirred in her mother's arms, betraying that she had heard and fully understood what Victoria just said.

"Hmmm, no I haven't," Araceli answered, playing along, "but you can still bring some of these too: you know, just in case some little one with a sweet tooth shows up..."


	14. Ch 14 - Father and son

**Chapter 14 – Father and son**

"I still can't believe it!"

"Are you going to repeat this over and over till the tavern's closing time?"

"Well excuse me for having a hard time realising that I suddenly have a baby sister I had never heard about!" a rather upset Diego snapped at his father. "A baby sister you have been hiding to me for six years!"

"Diego, don't raise your voice at me!" Don Alejandro said in a warning voice. "I might have disappointed you but I'm still your father! You still owe me respect!"

Diego slowly ran his hands down his face, sighing.

"Of course, you're right," he said, lowering his voice somehow but still a bit stiffly. "My apologies."

Don Alejandro calmed down and nodded.

"So she's really yours?" Diego asked, fishing for anything. Perhaps his father had chivalrously volunteered to cover up for someone else...?

"Yes Diego, she is."

Diego let out a little sigh, and Don Alejandro watched his face closely, not saying anything.

"Still," Diego went on, "you have to admit it's quite a shock to discover a sister turning up just like that, out of nowhere!"

"Leonor doesn't come 'out of nowhere', as you phrase it: I remind you that she has a mother, just like anyone!"

"Indeed," Diego replied, "let's talk about that woman! You never t–"

"Diego...!" this time Don Alejandro was the one raising his voice, another warning edge in it. "You are _not_ to disrespect Araceli...!"

He gave his son a stern look.

"Especially since she isn't there to stand up for herself," he added. "And don't call her 'that woman', she has a name."

Diego closed his eyes, not very proud of himself.

"You're right, I'm sorry." He sighed again. "But what I mean... you didn't ever tell me about her! Who is she? What are her intentions? I don't know anything about that! You never–"

"She's a good person, Diego. I know what this looks like, but she is a good person. And a good mother."

"I believe you about that last part, she'd walk through fire for her daughter... I'm sure," he added hastily. "But still, I don't know what to think..."

He looked at the wall separating the kitchen from the rest of the tavern, as if trying to see through it.

He resumed pacing around the kitchen's central table in long strides, while Don Alejandro was standing in the middle of the room, leaning on this same table.

"For God's sake, Diego, please sit down, your endless pacing in circles is making my head spin!"

Diego didn't sit but only sopped, turned around, and resumed pacing in the opposite direction.

"I can't believe it," he simply repeated for the umpteenth time.

His father grabbed a chair and put himself on his son's way, stopping him by setting the seat right in front of him.

"Diego, my boy," Don Alejandro gently told him, "come on, sit down before you wear a hole in Victoria's pavement."

His son complied, putting his elbows on the table. He squeezed his eyes shut, pressed them with his thumb and index just like he did earlier in the afternoon, then ran again his hands over his face – twice, thrice – before looking at his father across the table.

Another heavy sigh.

"Father..." he started, before pausing.

He pinched his lips, searching for his words.

Gesturing in the general direction of the tavern's main room and of Leonor and her mother, he began to ask:

"How...?"

Not finishing his question, he gestured again vaguely in the child's general direction.

His father unexpectedly chuckled.

"Really Diego," Don Alejandro told him with a slightly amused note in his tone, "if you don't know the answer to that question, then there's been serious gaps in the education I tried to give you."

Alejandro's attempt at joking didn't lighten Diego's mood. At all.

Quite the contrary, in fact.

"It's hardly funny, Father. And to tell you the truth, I'd rather not think about–"

He made a face.

Alejandro sobered.

"Diego, hijo..." he started to say.

"How... How could you...?" Diego seemed to be at a loss. Not angry, _at a loss_. "How could _she_...?" He stared at his father. "Honestly, Father, what kind of woman would... You say she is a good person, and I'm ready to believe you, but really–"

"Diego! Araceli is a very fine woman. I now she... I know _we_..." He paused. "But don't say any ill word about someone you don't know." He became a bit more agitated. "I know what we did. I know we shouldn't have. But I'm asking you to be respectful toward her. Now, if you really want to blame someone, then blame _me_."

_Oh, but be sure that I do,_ Diego reflected inwardly. He wisely chose not to voice this thought aloud.

"Father, as much as I admire your willingness to act gentlemanly toward Señora Valdès by taking the blame on yourself, my concern as a son is first and forem–"

"Diego, my son, you have nothing to worry about," Don Alejandro assured him.

"Well, excuse me for worrying about my father!" Diego retorted. "For being concerned that a young and charming woman happens to find a rich and older successful landowner who could be her father suddenly irresistible!"

"Diego," Alejandro warned him, "I really don't like the way you're talking about Araceli... I've already told you to speak of her respectfully, she's the mother of your sister!"

He too ran his hands over his face to calm down. A family trait, perhaps?

"And what you just said was not terribly flattering for me either, I must say..." he added. "Diego, I understand your concern about discovering a woman..." He didn't finish his sentence. "Whatever. But I'll have you know there was nothing 'sudden' in this, contrary to what you just said. Well, I can understand how to you it _seems_ sudden, but in truth it happened years ago. And it's been over for a long time, too..."

He sighed. What a mess he has gotten himself into!

"I should have told you long ago, Diego, I know. I'm so sorry..."

Diego barely dared to ask his next question:

"Father... how did... what happened...?" he whispered.

Alejandro stared into space, suddenly recalling a nice garden at nightfall and the subtle smell of honeysuckle...

Seeing a small wistful smile on his father's face, Diego breathily asked another question he never thought he would ever dare ask him:

"Are you... were you... _in love_... with that woman?"

Alejandro snapped out of his reverie and threw his son a slightly reproachful look.

"Diego, I'm your father, I don't think you have the right to ask me this kind of question..."

Diego looked down.

"I'm just trying to understand... to get a clearer idea of all this... I don't mean to intrude, I swear. Is that so wrong to worry for one's father's heart?"

Alejandro reached for his son's hand and gently squeezed it.

"Of course not, Diego, of course not..."

"I just feel a bit lost in all this, Father, so I'd like you to help me understand a bit better..."

Yes, Diego was inwardly asking himself a dozen questions. But the most crucial suddenly seemed to be that one. Had he fallen in love with this woman? Was that why he let himself have an affair with her? And if so, Diego reflected, wasn't it some betrayal of the loving memory of his deceased mother?

And what would bother Diego most: that his father slept with a woman he hadn't even the excuse to love, or that he could love another woman after Diego's mother?

"So," Diego repeated tentatively, "did you fall in love with this wom– with Doña Araceli?"

Don Alejandro ran a hand through his grey hair.

"It's not... That's not... No, that's not exactly what... what we..." Don Alejandro mumbled. "No, no Diego, that's not how things... And anyway, she was far too young for me..."

_You're telling me! _Diego thought. But inwardly, he felt rather relieved by this answer. The idea of anyone taking his mother's place, be it in their hacienda or only in his father's heart, didn't sit well with him.

"Father, please forgive me for asking this other question, but... hum... how can you be sure this child is really yours? Well, I mean–"

"I know fairly well what you mean, Diego," Don Alejandro growled, "and I demand you to stop!" He was getting really irritated at his son. "This is highly insulting to Araceli!"

Diego sheepishly stared at the tip of his shoes."I apologise, Father, this was uncalled for..."

"Yes it was!"

"Alright, I take back what I have hinted at. I'm sorry. It's just that, for a lone widowed young woman, having a child with a rich landowner and honourable caballero like yourself could appear as some sort of... guarantee... for the future."

Don Alejandro gave him a very steely look. Mixed with heavy disappointment.

"Don't worry about your inheritance, Diego," his father told him in a very cold voice, "Araceli has never asked me one centavo. Of course I have arranged some things for Leonor in my will, plus one or two others that I have planned for her to have while I'm still alive, but I assure you that the near entirety of what I own will be yours."

Diego was appalled and truly hurt at his father's not so veiled accusation.

"Father, I swear you that's absolutely not what I had in mind. I... I... I swear..."

Father and son were getting very displeased with each other, and Diego knew he had to do something to defuse the situation and clear the air. He therefore reached to his father's hand across the table, cleared his throat, smiled at him and asked in a gentle voice:

"So, tell me a bit about my little sister..."

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

Having Don Alejandro talk about Leonor – about what she liked, what she disliked, what she was like – had been a nice diversion for Diego, as well as a mean to learn more about this unexpected little sister showing up in his life. He wholeheartedly laughed at some of her child's remarks, sweetly smiled at Alejandro's recollection of the first time he saw her as a newborn, chuckled at his father's description of her as a reckless toddler, as well as at Don Alejandro's obvious lack of objectivity as he evoked her ability to read at the age of four.

But after a while, the talk went back to the subject of Don Alejandro and Araceli, to how his father had reacted to the news about his impending paternity, and the conversation became slightly heated again.

"...and I can't imagine you didn't make amends for that by putting things right!"

"Diego..." Don Alejandro tried to cut in; but his son just got started, and nothing could stop him.

"Really Father, you taught me that a man worthy of the name has to take his responsibilities, _wholly_..."

"Diego..." Alejandro tried again.

"I would think the only honourable thing to do in this case would be to marry the woman, and I thought that was your opinion too..."

"Diego!"

"Since you had known since long before the birth, you _had_ to propose, whatever the circumstances or your own feelings–"

"Diego!"

"Really, I can't believe that you didn't marry her! Honestly Fath–"

"DIEGO!"

This time his father's shout made its way past through Diego's ears and reached his troubled and boiling mind. He quieted, surprised, looking expectantly at Don Alejandro.

The latter sighed, raised his gaze to look his son right in the eyes, and then he simply told him in a slightly sheepish voice:

"She said no."


	15. Ch 15 - Mistress

**Chapter 15 – Mistress**

"She said _what_...?"

Don Alejandro clenched his teeth, but at the same time he threw his son a very weary look. He then let out a small annoyed and despondent sigh.

"Please Diego, don't have me repeat that."

Yes, Diego could imagine what being turned down could have done to his father's self-esteem. And by someone people would then see as a fallen woman, no less! Admittedly, he had 'fallen' with her, but still... anyway that wasn't the point.

Yes, being turned down was probably painful, Diego thought. Almost as painful as being jilted at the altar, he reflected with some sour bile spreading in his chest and a bitter taste in his mouth...

_Well,_ he reasoned, recalling his own sad experience, technically himself hadn't been _jilted_ at the altar, he had been _stood up_ at the altar... Still, it hurt all the same... even after all these years: he might not be in love with her anymore, but with the enthusiasm, the freshness and the naivety of his young years, he had wholeheartedly believed in this sweet dream...

And now what concerned Diego was to know whether his father's dejectedness at the memory of being turned down was a matter of wounded pride, or worse... of wounded _heart_...?

Still, Diego had trouble figuring a lone and pregnant woman refusing the offer of marrying the rich and respectable father who was willing to right his wrongs... He couldn't fathom that.

He just couldn't make up his mind about her.

She didn't seem to give too much importance to people's opinion about her person, as long as she still could afford for her way of life. And she apparently had money, according to the refined dresses she and her daughter had been wearing today, but even more to the fact that she travelled with a chambermaid. And since his father said he didn't financially keep her, then her money had to come from elsewhere... Inheritance, probably. Her late husband's? Yes, in all likelihood. Or was it her parents'...?

On the other hand, Diego remembered that she talked about her _business_, back there in San Diego. And when she told him about her household knowing about Leonor's paternal parentage, she also talked about her _'other employees'_. Without elaborating any further.

So another question suddenly sprouted in his mind, and he was sure he didn't like the answer that was beginning to form in the back of his mind...

Exactly what kind of _business_ was Araceli Ximénez de Valdès running?

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

From her counter, Victoria glanced at Señora Valdès and her daughter. She was holding her child in her lap, and little Leonor was snuggling against her mother's chest, her head pillowed in Araceli's bosom. Señora Valdès had her arms around her daughter gently keeping her close to her heart. She had managed to get the child to nibble some bread and cheese as well as two biscuits.

From time to time the woman sipped her wine, looking idly around her, running her palm along her daughter's hair in long and slow strokes. Victoria wondered what happened to the child's dark hair: it was now undone, tangled and very unevenly cut at neck's length. Still, the both of them quietly cuddling in a secluded corner of her tavern with the rest of the world going on around them were making a very nice picture. A sight which filled Victoria with some sort of... longing.

On the other hand, she noticed that the feeling of unwellness she had been stuck with all day had disappeared. When did it happen? She couldn't remember exactly, but in her memory it had to be around Zorro's earlier appearance, when he brought back little Leonor to Don Alejandro. Then the stunning news about the girl's real parentage had occupied her mind enough to make her totally forget about her own condition. Well, whatever it had been, it was now over and she was again feeling perfectly well, just like twenty-four hours earlier, before the stagecoach arrived.

She looked again at Señora Valdès. She had to admit she still had some trouble imagining Don Alejandro and her...

Don Alejandro was such a decent and proper man! So seemly, so respectable... so serious! And to imagine that he could have a mistress! A _young_ mistress! She was what... Diego's age, more or less? Don Alejandro of all people, having a mistress! Having an affair with a woman who could be his daughter! Or rather, his daughter-in-law...

Victoria unintentionally made a face at this last thought.

Don Alejandro de la Vega had a secret love child... she still had trouble wrapping her mind around this idea... And poor Don Diego, it was probably ten times worse for him! He had a sister who could be his daughter!

Again she made a face. Was it becoming some sort of reflex?

Poor man indeed: two month ago he suddenly discovered he had a twin brother no one had ever known about, he lost him immediately after, and now a baby half-sister was turning up?! That was a bit too much for one man, and he would probably wonder how many other siblings of his will show up in Los Angeles! Really, Victoria reflected, Don Alejandro shouldn't have hidden his sister's existence from him, even thought he didn't to make it public for the whole pueblo to know! Don Diego deserved to know!

Well, she sighed inwardly, what was done was done, and wouldn't be undone. Yet she couldn't help but wonder how she would feel if someone close to her hid something that big to her. No doubt that when she'd finally learn the truth, she'd feel awfully betrayed! Thinking about that, she understood that Don Diego would need some time to forgive his father not only his moral lapse, but also – and probably even more – the secrecy. And the lies.

Yes, that would probably hurt a lot, and Don Diego was probably right now experiencing this feeling. She made a promise to be extra kind and considerate toward him in the following days. And patient too, if she was capable of that...

She looked again at Señora Valdès, puzzled. Granted, Don Alejandro was a wonderful man, but, well... he was... uh... _old_; Victoria couldn't find any other word to state things more diplomatically. And anyway, diplomacy had never been her thing...

But yes, Don Alejandro was admittedly a very nice man with impeccable manners, granted he was still charming and dapper-looking, yet for a young woman, choosing to have an affair with a man this age when there were gentle and good-looking much younger men around... She still couldn't fathom this. Unless, she thought, unless it had something to do with his status? With his prestigious position and name? Or... with his money?

Looking around her tavern, she saw that she hadn't been the only one to glance at the woman. And in some of her patrons' eyes, she could read their thoughts as though they were voicing these aloud. They were saying: _mistress, mistress, mistress! easy-to-get, easy virtue, loose..._

Whatever she was thinking about her, whatever she had done, Victoria didn't like to see a woman being cheapened in the presence of her child – even silently so. Señora Valdès, for her part, didn't seem to care. Or was she just unaware of these looks? She was still holding her daughter close and slowly caressing her head and back with long strokes of her right hand, kissing the top of her head from time to time. Victoria could barely see the child's face, buried as it was in her mother's chest. But she noted that Leonor's breathing was even and deep, in rhythm with her mother's stroking motion. Was she drowsing?

Victoria went to their table, if only to make the stares stop.

"Is everything to your liking, Señora? Do you want something else?"

"Everything is perfectly all right, Señorita, gracias," Araceli anwered in a low voice. "Leonor has barely eaten what I have tried to give her, so no, thank you. Oh, by the way, your wine is still as excellent as yesterday's! Quite a good supplier you have there, Señorita!" she added with a smile.

"Indeed," Victoria replied, careful not to raise her voice so as not to wake up the snoozing child.

Señora Valdès took a bite of a biscuit and said:

"These are excellent too, congratulations Señorita."

"My father's recipe," Victoria explained with a smile. "This tavern was his before I took over..."

"Ah... family...!" Araceli replied... "There's nothing like that! Parents, siblings... they will always love you unconditionally," she added with a soft and fond smile.

Victoria smiled by way of agreement. Then she gestured at the little girl in the Señora's lap and said tentatively:

"Now that I know, she looks like her father."

Señora Valdès smiled and nodded slightly.

"Like her brother, too," Victoria suddenly added.

"Ah...? I wouldn't know, I haven't paid much attention to Don Diego I'm afraid. With all that's happened..."

Victoria looked at her for some time.

"He's a nice man, you know..." she then told her. "I don't know how he's reacting to... hum... well..."

She made a vague sweeping gesture, meant to evoke the general situation.

"...but he is a kind man," she went on. "I'm sure everything will be all right... eventually!"

"I hope so. I'd hate for Alejandro and his son to have a row because of me or of Leonor... I'd hate for any bad blood to be between them, to pull them apart," she said in a sad voice. "But," she added resolutely, "I wouldn't let Don Diego take it out on Leonor!"

"Oh!" Victoria retorted a bit too heatedly, "he's absolutely not like that! There is no kinder man in Los Angles, except perhaps his father of course. I assure you he's not the kind of man who would bear a grudge against an innocent child, and even less who'd lash out at her! He's the gentlest person I know, don't worry."

"Hmm, I don't know... he didn't seem too pleased," Araceli added with a nod of her head toward the kitchen.

"Give him time..." Victoria wisely replied. "You must admit it's quite a shock for him..."

"Yes, I guess so..." She let out a heavy sigh. "I kept telling Alejandro that he should tell him, that he should have told him long ago, that the later he'd wait, the worst it would be for both of them..."

Victoria nodded gravely. Araceli went on:

"We all have our little secrets, things that are no one else's business, but something as big as that... his son had the right to know. I kept telling it, but he always had a good reason to postpone... or rather an excuse! According to him, that was never the good time." She had a small amused smile and chuckled. "I knew he was just plainly terrified."

Victoria had a hard time picturing someone as brave as Don Alejandro being terrified of Diego; well, truth be told, she was having a hard time picturing _anyone_ being terrified of Don Diego... She chuckled, but quickly sobered: we're always afraid of disappointing those we truly love... Her heart went to Don Alejandro, torn between his obligations toward his two children, between his wish to share his secret with Diego and his fear of his son's reaction.

Twice or thrice, she had heard some loud bursts and raised voices come from her kitchen, but without being able to catch what they said. What if things turned sour and they fell out?


	16. Ch 16 - Business is business

**Chapter 16 – Business is business**

"By the way Señora, where do you and your daughter come from?" Victoria asked Araceli in the course of the conversation.

"San Diego."

Far enough for no one to ever find out, Victoria reflected, but close enough for Don Alejandro to go there once every two or three month. Under the pretence of business trips. Of all traits she would have attributed to the de la Vegas, deception wasn't part of it. And yet Risendo came here under a fallacious pretext and hid his lineage and true motives, and now Victoria learned that Don Alejandro had lied to everyone and especially to his own son for years to go visit his second family in San Diego!

Yes, that was quite disappointing. And even a bit hurtful, Victoria reflected. And if _she_ felt hurt, what of Don Diego! Thankfully, he didn't seem to have inherited this deceptive trait apparently running in his family!

She watched the mother and her child, trying to figure what was their life like back there in San Diego.

"It must be hard for you..." she finally ventured. "In San Diego, I mean. Alone with a child..."

Araceli looked at her, surprised.

"Hard?"

Then she seemed to get what Victoria meant.

"Oh," she said, "no, that's alright. We're good." She kissed Leonor's head. The girl was now sound asleep.

Victoria couldn't totally believe her. Having a child out of wedlock... She must have been shunned and ostracised!

"Well," she then told the woman, "people in San Diego must be quite broad-minded, then!"

Victoria realised she unintentionally put a note of slight disapproval in her comment. She couldn't help but judge her. It was hard to cut loose from ingrained system of values...

Señora Valdès stifled a throaty giggle.

"Not much, no... At least not more than anywhere else, I guess."

She gave a pointed look around them. _So she had noticed the stares,_ Victoria reflected. Apparently she didn't care, then. Well, why would she? After all she didn't know anyone in Los Angeles, Victoria reflected.

Still, how was she faring back home in San Diego with this situation?

"People are... illogical," Araceli explained. "And predictably so, as strange as this may sound: they are prone to have an opinion on anything or everything, but thankfully most of them are also pragmatic."

Victoria gave her a curious look, sitting down at her table to better talk with her.

"Money," Araceli simply provided by way of further explanation. "Money is the key."

Victoria's eyebrows rose to her mid-forehead.

"Well, no, not really _money_, but _power_. Power is the key. If you can be the one in power, then people will pander to you. If you have power, they will abide to you and your ways, whatever they think of you. If they need you, they'll adapt to you. If their interests require that they bear with you, then they'll seem to forget how much they disapprove of your way of life, they'll just turn a blind eye on it... And in the kind of world we're living in, this sort of power comes with money. However unmoral it can be, it's how things work here below; whether we like it or not, we have to make do with that. Plain and simple. As sad as it sounds..."

"I disagree," Victoria retorted. _Was this woman just plainly venal? A gold digger? Was it the reason behind her affair with Don Alejandro?_ "You can't buy people," Victoria went on. "At least not everyone. People aren't up for sale."

"I agree, you can't buy people. You certainly can never buy their feelings or their inner thoughts; you can't buy minds or hearts. But you can absolutely buy people's behaviour..."

Victoria still seemed unconvinced.

"If they have something to sell," Señora Valdès started to explain, "and you're the one who could offer them either the best price, the best guarantees or the best outlet for their goods or services, they won't turn the nose up at your money. Not if they really need it or if you're a good customer, as long as you don't make trouble. I mean, have you ever thrown a customer out of you tavern just because you didn't like him, unless he harassed your other customers or your employees, or started a bar fight?"

Hmm, Victoria reflected, indeed she tolerated the alcalde in her establishment even though he was far from being her favourite person.

"And it also works the other way round," Señora Valdès further explained. "Let's take your tavern, for instance. It's the only one in Los Angeles so if someone wants to have a drink or a meal outside his own home, if he is thirsty or hungry, he _has_ to come here. Even if he doesn't like you or disapproves of you – for whatever reason that would be none of my business. The only other solution would be for him to do without the drink or the meal he wants so much."

Inwardly, Victoria thought again about de Soto: he certainly disapproved of her admiration and repeated support to Zorro, yet he still patronised her tavern; mainly because the garrison's cantina tasted awfully bland. Hmmm yes, perhaps Señora Valdès's hypothesis made some sense, after all...

"Now," Araceli went on, "let's imagine that there were two other taverns in Los Angeles... One that tastes bad, and one that tastes as good as yours but is more expensive. Perhaps among your patrons you would lose some customers: a few of those who strongly disapprove of you might go to your first competitor, even if it meant eating tasteless cooking and drinking plonk. A few others might go to your second competitor, but only the richest ones could afford that in the long run. So all in all, as long as your business is a good and affordable one, as long as you keep up the good work, your tavern will probably still be the most successful one around here... You might have a bit less customers and lose those whose disapproval of you is stronger than the care for their own interest, but eventually, since most people will still need the good service you provide for a decent price, I'm confident they will carry on with patronising your tavern..."

Victoria remained quiet for a long time, pondering what the woman had just expounded to her.

"But," she finally asked, "what if there is another tavern as good and affordable as mine, run by someone everyone approves of?"

"Then you'll lose most of your customers," Señorita Valdès answered matter-of-factly. "Hence the need to simply be the best in your business."

_Simply_. Easier said than done!

"Just make sure to always have the best price-quality ratio in the area, and to make it known!" Araceli added.

Victoria was mulling this over. Perhaps... perhaps, if it was true... then perhaps...

...would it really be the solution for her to have the children she had been wanting for so long...? Even without getting married to Zorro first? To have children with Zorro? But would he even agree to it?

And most importantly, could she really have a child out of wedlock and not lose her business? Not see herself be shunned and her tavern decline and then collapse for lack of patronage?

After years and years of waiting, she was beginning not to care that much anymore about her reputation and good name if it meant having at least part of the family life she longed for... But could she afford for this? _Money_, that's what Señora Valdès said: it was the key to this kind of freedom. But Victoria knew she would still need her tavern to earn a living. All the more so with a fatherless child. And the question was: could her business survive such a scandal?

She was far from being as well-off as Señora Valdès seemed to be. And suddenly another question came to her mind: the woman had spoken as though herself owned a business back there in San Diego. What kind of customers wouldn't be too fussy about the scandal of an illegitimate child? What kind of business wouldn't be too much affected by that matter?

What sort of business house, what kind of trade could make do with ill repute?

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

"Diego, for Heaven's sake, we were both widowed at the time! We didn't betray anyone!"

Yes, yes, of course... technically, at least. Still, Diego couldn't help but feel a though his father had trampled on his mother's grave.

"Diego," Alejandro told him in a calmer and gentler voice, "I loved your mother immensely; and I still do, in fact. Only perhaps a bit differently... She's been and will remain the great love of my life... But she is dead, Diego. She's been for a very long time. It took me long enough to truly accept it, and I thought I did my best to help you... to help you deal with that and with her absence. To have you accept it as well. I didn't know it was still that raw for you... I'm sorry. But neither Araceli nor Leonor have anything to do with that."

Diego put his elbows on the table and buried his face in his hands, sighing deeply:

"I know, I know... of course I know that."

"Diego, my son, look at me..."

Diego raised his head at his father.

"I need you to promise me you won't utter one ill word at Leonor or Araceli. You're troubled and angry, and I can understand that, but don't take it out on Leonor. She's done nothing wrong..."

"Of course, Father, I didn't even think of that. You have my word. It's just that... I don't know what to tell her. I have nothing to tell her."

"You're siblings, Diego... you'll manage, I trust you."

"Perhaps... after all, considering the situation she's the easiest to talk to. As you stated, _she_ didn't do anything."

"I know I've disappointed you, Die–"

"You've betrayed _me_! You didn't even tell me I had a half-sister! I'm not talking about you to confess to the whole pueblo, but– but– I'm your son! And I assure you I can keep a secret." Diego paused to let out a sigh. "Didn't it occur to you that I had the right to know I had more family than I thought? That I might want to know her? To see her grow up?"

"Well, I know I made you miss her first years and I'm also sorry for that; but now you know, and you two will be able to make up for these years!"

"Only because you've been cornered into telling me!" Diego shouted. "Without these men's blackmail I still wouldn't know anything!"

Diego calmed down and went on in a softer voice:

"Understand me, Father... I need to know. Where do you know this wom– Doña Araceli from? Who is she? How did you two meet? How did it all happen? And why haven't you told me anything? For God's sake, I certainly wouldn't have killed anyone! What bad things do you think could have happened if you told me? Except for me to feel disappointed, that is, but we both know I'll eventually get over it... Please Father tell me more... I need to know... to understand..."

Don Alejandro sighed.

"Alright. I should have told you so long ago... I'm certainly not going to give you all the details, but–"

"I certainly don't _want_ the details, Father! But I need to understand why you... how you could..."

Another deep sigh came out of Don Alejandro's chest.

"It was long ago... You... you were in Spain. You had been gone for more than one year, and the hacienda felt so empty!"

"Empty but full of servants and with a little deaf boy to care for..." Diego pointedly commented.

"It's not the same," his father retorted. "Of course I also often met the other haciendados in the pueblo, but still... And I felt...uh..."

"What...? _Lonely_?" Diego asked a bit too aggressively.

"Diego...," Don Alejandro growled, "if you keep on interrupting, it will take even longer!"

"Sorry Father, excuse me. Please, go on."

Don Alejandro wondered where to begin. He recalled this time of his life. Yes, after one year of Diego's absence he had felt... lonely. Was he to begin with that? Or with the several business trips he did to San Diego at that same time?

Was he rather to first tell him about Araceli, her family, her history, who she was, tell him about her business there in San Diego?

Unless he simply started with the sweet fragrance of flowers in Araceli's garden at dusk?

Inwardly, he suddenly travelled back in time and in his memory...


	17. Ch 17 - San Diego

**Chapter 17 – San Diego**

Alejandro remembered...

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

_"Yes, Felipe, I miss him a lot."_

_The little boy then pointed at him and made a sign Alejandro didn't understand. Felipe insisted, and then made another sign. After some difficulty, the man finally understood what the child meant:_

_"If I'm bored?"_

_Felipe nodded, happy and relieved to see that he was finally understood._

_"No, I don't really have time to be bored, you know..."_

_Another sign from the boy._

_"Well, I have much to do. You know Felipe, that's a lot of work to run a rancho as big as this one! Yesterday I went to an auction to buy some cattle, this morning I went to see the tenants, in the early afternoon I had a meeting with my head vaquero, then I had to arrange for a batch of cowhide to be sent and exported to Spain; and tomorrow I have to set off very early on a trip to San Diego to conduct some business deals there. Thankfully, when Diego comes back from Spain he'll help me in these matters, we can share the burden!"_

_Felipe made a sign, counting on his fingers._

_"Yes, it's still four years before he comes back, I know. By this time, you will have grown taller, my young friend!"_

_The child had a large smile._

_"And I will have grown older," Don Alejandro sighed. "And greyer..." he added, making a face._

_On the day after, he had an early start: it was a good two days ride to San Diego. He stopped half way in San Juan Capistrano to spend the night there, and finally made it to San Diego late in the evening, quite raddled. Once at the inn, after a copious meal he went straight to bed._

_The morning after he visited his lawyer: out of sheer courtesy, first, like every time he happened to be in San Diego, but also because he had a few matters to see with him about some piece of land he had recently bought near San Luis Rey._

_"And did you come all the way here to attend to that, Don Alejandro?" the man asked him. "Not that I don't enjoy the pleasure of your company, but we could have done this through mail."_

_"No, no, I have other things to attend to here in San Diego. I'd like to have a look at Jorge Alvarez's horses. They're said to be the most beautiful ones of Alta California, but I hate to blindly buy horses. I know I should trust people, delegate and not do everything myself, but as far as horses are concerned I can't help myself."_

_"Well, you won't be disappointed, he has some truly amazing stallions and mares!"_

_"Really? Good! Oh, and I also have some business transaction to discuss with the Ximénez Company. And I'll have to meet with the Vasquez brothers: the price they've been selling me wine lately has become almost outrageous! If they want me to keep them as the main suppliers of my cellar, they'd better have a good explanation, or I may trade with the Ximénezes for that too..."_

_"Good luck with that! Both firms are run by tough businesspeople..." the lawyer replied. "Now tell me about your son; have you received recent news from Don Diego?"_

_"Yes indeed, and in his letters he is very enthusiastic! About Spain, about his studies, about the friends he made there, about the life in Madrid..."_

_"Tell me about that!" the man said with a knowing smile. "Madrid can be an enticing city for a young man who enjoys the pleasures of life... Don't we know that!"_

_Alejandro made a face, remembering his younger years, but then he chuckled. Enticing indeed..._

_"It is," he agreed, "but as much as I want him to enjoy his time there, I hope he won't have too much fun, if you see what I mean..."_

_"Aaaahh, the charms of Madrilean women can be dangerous for us poor mortals... But there are worse tortures than that, Don Alejandro!"_

_They both smiled._

_"Still, I trust Diego," Alejandro said. "He wouldn't take advantage of an innocent girl."_

_"Well, thankfully for us men, the world was already full of not-so-innocent real women when we were his age!"_

_Again, they both smiled._

_"But I'm sure Don Diego is a very proper young man and a perfect gentleman," he went on. "And who knows, perhaps he'll come home from Spain with a bride on his arm..."_

_Alejandro frowned a bit._

_"Hmm, I think I'd rather not..." he replied. "After all, I'm just like any father, and any father likes to have a say in choosing their children-in-law... As you stated, Diego is still a very young man, and young men in love usually don't think straight. And make decisions devoid of any of the practicalities of life; decisions they might later regret..."_

_"In other words, you'd like to choose his bride yourself, according to your criteria..."_

_"No, not exactly... I wouldn't state it like that... I'd like him to make a good match __**and**__ a love match. Is that too much to ask?"_

_"From my point of view as a lawyer, I can tell you that unfortunately yes, it is apparently too much to ask. Believe me, I've seen many a marriage in my career, and very few of these had those two characteristics."_

_Alejandro sighed._

_"Then I suppose that yes, I'd rather like to choose Diego's future bride myself than have him bring home a total stranger... I can't help it! Is that so bad?"_

_"As your lawyer, I'd say that no, it's very wise of you: my job is to counsel you in your best financial and legal interests. Now as a father... I'm not sure... Perhaps we should trust them and give them a freer rein? For instance, my daughter has just turned down the fifth suitor we had introduced her to. And I'm sure that's precisely because __**we**__ introduced him to her with that purpose in mind... Just for the sake of being contrary! We don't know what to do with her anymore. But on the other hand, I don't want to see her unhappy with a husband she'd have nothing in common with except the fact that their fathers are both lawyers."_

_"Ahhh, children..." Don Alejandro sighed, "I have only one and I'm already worrying myself sick about his future. How can parents who have more children manage?"_

_They both laughed._

_"Don Alejandro, would you do me the honour of your company for lunch? My wife would be delighted, and you might help us knock some sense into our daughter..."_

_"Ah, I'm sorry, I've already been invited by Señor Alvarez for today's lunch."_

_"Oh, all right. Then tonight, perhaps?"_

_"Well, you don't have luck: I'm having dinner with the people of the Ximénez Company. Tomorrow, perhaps?"_

_"Tomorrow at noon, that's a date, then..."_

z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z ~ z

_The Ximénez Company was an important import-export firm, trading between California and Spain, and more generally between New Spain and Europe. It was Monterey-based, founded fifteen years earlier by a man named Melchior Ximénez, and it now had several branches all over Alta California._

_Señor Ximénez had entrusted the management of each of these affiliates to one of his children. 'Affiliate' indeed. And the San Diego branch was currently run by Ximénez's now widowed eldest daughter. _

_The first time Alejandro had to deal with her, a bit more than two years earlier, he thought he would make short work of her in trade talks, and he promised himself not to go too hard on her. Just think! A girl! A youngster! An innocent young thing among the long-fanged wolves of trading business... Someone less scrupulous than he was would simply wipe the floor with her in a serious business negotiation... But with his good heart and his chivalry, Alejandro promised himself he wouldn't swindle her... not too much, anyway._

_Well, he had been in for a surprise when he realised that she was in fact driving a hard bargain! Some 'innocent young thing', indeed! Unprepared to that as he had been then, he was just lucky she didn't take his shirt off his back in their first trade talk... And he didn't even notice it before it was too late for him and his best interests, because she did all this with the most gracious smile on her face and the most charming manners. She was talented, he realised too late... Really gifted..._

_It reminded him an essential lesson he might have forgotten: never underestimate your opponent._

_But Alejandro de la Vega was a good sport, and he had always liked crossing blades with a skilled swordsman. So in his following negotiations he just didn't forget who he was dealing with, and he truly enjoyed it. All the more so that, if Señora Ximénez de Valdès was tough as far as business was concerned, she was also agreeable and good-natured the rest of the time. Not to mention that she had a terrific wine cellar! Well, she could, she imported wine directly from the best vineyards of Spain and even of France._

_And precisely, Alejandro planned to discuss, among other things, the eventuality to perhaps buy his wine from her. Until now he had had another supplier, but he was growing unsatisfied with him... But of course he wouldn't tell her that, or she'd announce a higher price than what he counted on... He had learned his lesson the hard way, and wouldn't let her have the upper hand this time._

_As he made his way to her house, he recalled his previous thoughts about her in the course of the last two years..._

_At first, and once the initial shock about her skills had faded, he had had an idea. A rather pleasant idea: she'd make a very fine daughter-in-law, and an ideal match for his son. _

_She was distinguished, well-bred, charming and witty, all of the above making her an ideal daughter-in-law to any caballero. The de la Vegas were very important landowners and produced a great amount of goods to be exported; mainly leather and tallow for Europe, but also bovine meat for the local market. Horses, too. On the other side the Ximénez Company was a successful and growing business, with activities that complemented nicely the de la Vegas'... Yes, on paper, marrying the Ximénezes with the de la Vegas seemed an appealing idea._

_But on second thought, he remembered she was a widow. Not that it was her fault, but it meant she had already been married, making her a 'second-hand' woman. Which was still alright to marry a man in his thirties, but it made her a bit lower-ranked on the marriage market. Like some sort of small flaw that wasn't too serious but prevented her from being labelled 'top-quality bride'. Making her perhaps slightly unsuitable for a never-married very young man such as Diego..._

_Really too bad, Alejandro lamented. The Ximénezes and the de la Vegas... It would have been nice..._

_Anyway. Alejandro went back to the present: his interview with the Vasquez brothers hadn't gone very well, and they had barely lowered the prices they offered to sell him their best vintages. He hoped Señora Ximénez de Valdès would have better prices... He already knew she probably had better wine._

_When he arrived at the small hacienda she lived in on the outskirts of the town, a servant opened the door and let him in. A minute later, the mistress of the house came to greet him._

_"Don Alejandro, that's an honour and a pleasure to have you here. I'm glad you could make it to attend this dinner. I'll make the introductions to those of the other guests you haven't already met."_

_He bowed and politely kissed her hand._

_"Doña Araceli, the honour is mine, as well as the pleasure. You are as charming as ever, I must say."_

_She politely smiled at the conventional compliment._

_"Thank you Don Alejandro, you're too kind. When did you arrive in San Diego?"_

_"Yesterday, two hours before nightfall."_

_"I hope you had a nice journey. Please come, let's join the others in the patio. The wisteria is blooming, you'll see, it's really splendid there..."_


	18. Ch 18 - Of horses and men

**Chapter 18 – Of horses and men**

_Once in the patio, Alejandro couldn't suppress an involuntary frown: among the guests was Cesar Villegas, of course! He was Doña Araceli's current... well... 'suitor', to put it mildly. Except that 'suitor' wasn't exactly the name, since it was murmured in certain circles that much more than simple 'courtship' happened between the two of them... and anyway Alejandro wasn't sure any of the two considered marriage..._

_At first he had been rather shocked at the liberties Señora Ximénes de Valdès was taking with generally accepted moral standards. But she still had the best goods from Europe and the Ximénes Company still offered the best guarantees of payment for the products he wanted to export. So all in all, he got over his reservations about her lifestyle and chose to turn a blind eye on it. After all, it was none of his business. And precisely, as far as his business was concerned, he liked dealing with her: she was tough, but honest and straight. Rigorous... Straightforward... Never a bad surprise with her or her family... And they always paid on the nail. Never a hitch with her._

_At the time Alejandro made her acquaintance, her 'man of the moment' wasn't this Cesar Villegas but a certain Leandro Alcalá, a lieutenant of the local garrison. A nice man, this Lieutenant Alcalá, pleasant to converse with, bright, refined. As a former officer himself, Alejandro esteemed this man, regardless of his... 'consorting'... with a younger woman he hadn't made his wife. Which made him not that much a gentleman, at least on this level..._

_But despite this slightly unpleasant detail, Alejandro even started to think the man could make a fine role model for Diego, an 'inspiration' on his return from Madrid. A slightly older man... thirty-five years old, perhaps? ...promised to rise in rank... well-bred and refined... straight and involved in the local community... Yes, Alejandro thought, Diego will certainly more or less be like this man in a few years' time..._

_And one fine day, just like that, Lieutenant Alcalá stopped being present at Doña Araceli's dinners. Yet he was still stationed in San Diego, Alejandro saw him. But apparently the relationship between them had ended, according to the grapevine buzzing among people she usually rubbed shoulders with._

_For one year no other man seemed to have taken over Alcalá's role with Doña Araceli or found favour in her eyes. Alejandro went to San Diego a good half-dozen times in the space of this year, and as a good customer-supplier he had sometimes been invited to attend business dinners or other parties at Señora Ximénez de Valdès's._

_And then one day she introduced to him her 'dear friend' Cesar Villegas. She didn't clarify what kind of 'friend' he was, but it soon became obvious that he was her new beau. An euphemism for 'lover', in that case._

_After a few months and three or four encounters with him, Alejandro couldn't really put his finger on why exactly but he thought the man seemed to be a prize idiot. Why Señora Valdès was seeing him was beyond him._

_He politely greeted the man nonetheless, and then let himself be dragged away by Doña Araceli who led him to another young man in the place._

_"Don Alejandro," she said, "I don't think you know my brother Gaspar. He's running another branch of our company in San Luis Obispo. Gaspar, please meet Don Alejandro de la Vega, a good customer from the Pueblo de Los Angeles."_

_"That's an honour, Don Alejandro."_

_"The honour is mine, Señor," he replied._

_Was he older or younger than his sister? Alejandro couldn't tell. He clearly was in his twenties, but whether he was more or less than her twenty-five years-old wasn't easy to guess... Anyway, now that Alejandro knew he was Doña Araceli's brother, he could indeed spot some resemblances between the two siblings. This raven unruly hair... these deep brown eyes... this slightly too swarthy complexion, at least for the standards of high society... Were there some Indian in their ancestry? Or even more unlikely, back there in Spain... some Gypsy? Appalling thoughts for any proud Spaniard, but you're hardly responsible for your forefathers, right? Or foremothers, come to think of that..._

_Unless their mother had some distant Moorish ancestry, like many Andalusians... Yes, he thought, that was more likely._

_"May I introduce my wife Faustina?" Señor Ximénez said, gesturing to the charming young woman on his arm._

_"Doña Faustina," Alejandro told her as he bowed to kiss her hand, "the flowers of this patio fade in comparison with your grace."_

_"Oh, Don Alejandro, thank you very much," the woman acknowledged the compliment with a becoming blush, gracefully accepting it as a simple but elegant mark of courtesy._

_Doña Araceli hooked her arm with Alejandro's and falsely chided him with an amused smile:_

_"Don Alejandro, you want to be careful: my brother might get the wrong idea and take umbrage at your admiration for my sister-in-law! And I wouldn't like to have my brother and a friend of mine duel just after I introduced them to each other!"_

_"Well, Doña Araceli, I'm glad you just called me a friend and not a business acquaintance. Your friendship is an honour and a pleasure."_

_"Why couldn't we be both?" she asked playfully. "Make business and be friends, I mean..."_

_"Señora," he replied with a grin, "with you it seems that absolutely everything can go with some level of business talk..."_

_"Well," she said with a knowing smile, "friendship and business aren't mutually exclusive... as long as both play fair!_ _You seem to have come to know me rather well over the years, Don Alejandro. I'm an open book, to you."_

_"I very much doubt it, Doña Araceli," he retorted mirroring her smile. "Or rather, what I have come to learn about you, other than the fact that you are the most charming hostess of all San Diego, is that as far as business is concerned you always keep a card up your sleeve in a negotiation..."_

_"Really?" she asked, rhetorically doubtful. "Well, never lose an occasion to make a good deal! That's my father's motto, and the second piece of advice he gave me as far as business is concerned."_

_"Oh? And may I ask what the first one was?"_

_"Never fool your customers," she answered straight back. "Be straight and honest in business, or they won't want anything to do with you in the future. A reputation of seriousness is the best asset a company can have..."_

_Alejandro could tell she had taken her father's advice by the book._

_"And I suppose your brother too applies these rules strictly in San Luis Obispo..." Alejandro ventured._

_"I certainly hope so," she replied. "If only for his own good! Otherwise Father might spank him! But talking about Gaspar, if he doesn't seem to take umbrage at your gallant compliment to Faustina, it might not be the same for me... I don't recall you telling me anything that delightful," she reproached him playfully. "But I can't resent you for admiring my sister-in-law: she's really a very pretty young woman!" she added with a smile. "But my flowers, on the other hand, might resent you for your comment. And here I thought they were the most pleasant sight in my house tonight..."_

_With a smile, she gave a slight tap on his arm with her closed fan._

_"Then you were wrong," Alejandro told her, "because none here can compare with the wonderful charm of their owner... Really, there is no need for you to envy your sister-in-law Señora: she might make your wisteria fade a bit, but you, Doña Araceli, command to the flowers of this patio and of this whole hacienda, and you are the queen of this kingdom of beauty; no other flower can compare with your charm and freshness, and no guest here can vie with the pleasure of your company..."_

_"Why, Don Alejandro!" she exclaimed playfully, wanting to take the compliment lightly but obviously pleased nonetheless. "You're quite the gallant caballero tonight!"_

_A bright smile lit her face, radiating around her._

_"I guess San Diego does that to me..." he replied pensively. "But, if neither you brother nor yourself did take umbrage at my words," he added, throwing a glance in her beau's direction on the opposite side of the patio, "perhaps Señor Villegas does... And perhaps he might misinterpret my words and find them a bit too forward for his liking..."_

_She followed his gaze. Cesar was taking a sip of his drink, looking her way._

_"Oh no, don't worry, Don Alejandro," she answered. "Don Cesar knows fairly well that I can stand up for myself if necessary." She smiled at her suitor who got up, seeing her look at him. "I tell you, Don Alejandro, there's nothing like a man who treats you as a real adult and not as some inept and hopeless lesser person always needing someone else..."_

_She had a broad smile on her face as she saw her sweetheart stand up and start to make his way to them._

_"Really, Don Alejandro, there's nothing like a man who's not feeling threatened by the fact that I don't need him..."_

_Villegas joined them as she ended her sentence. She beamed at him and smiled sweetly – mushily, Alejandro thought. He humphed inwardly at the sickeningly soppy look on her face. Honestly! And now what more...? Stars in her eyes, perhaps? Really! How could such a sensible woman suddenly turn into a puddle of goo? Ew... So disappointing from her! And if she really wanted a man in her life, she certainly could do better than this popinjay interested only in books, music and arts. Thank God, Alejandro thought, his Diego was nothing like this weakling!_

_Really, Doña Araceli might have a very good and wise manner of conducting her business, but she had a very strange way of leading her private life..._

_"Con su permiso...?" Villegas asked, presenting her his arm with on his face a wide smile mirroring hers._

Baboso_, Alejandro inwardly called the young man._

_She hooked her arm with her beau's, as Alejandro released her other arm, bowing over her hand. He then turned to Villegas._

Cretino_, he thought again._

_Yet instead of voicing his thoughts aloud, he courteously told him in a polite lip-service:_

_"She's all yours, Don Cesar."_

_"I very much doubt it, Don Alejandro," the young man answered._

_The older man looked at him, startled._

_"And as a matter of fact," Villegas clarified, "I doubt Doña Araceli will ever truly be anyone's..."_

_And on that note the young man fondly kissed her hand. Her already large smile grew even wider at his words._

Pooh! Smooth-talker,_ Alejandro thought. Really, what was a woman like her doing with a man like him?!_

_Well, Alejandro de la Vega wasn't born yesterday, and technically he had a pretty clear and far too graphic idea of exactly __**what**__ they were indeed doing together... Ahem._

_"Don Alejandro," Don Cesar told him, "I heard you had a look at Alvarez's horses this morning?"_

_"Yes I have," he answered, "and I have spotted a beautiful young mare I intent to buy. Initially I thought about buying it as a gift for my son on his return from Spain, but it won't happen before four more years; so in fact, I changed my mind and will simply and egoistically buy it for myself."_

_"Charity begins at home..." Don Cesar stated._

_As and when Don Alejandro described the animal with some flights of lyricism, Araceli deigned to stop drooling over her lover for a few minutes and suddenly joined the conversation:_

_"Oh, you don't mean that light bay filly who was sired by Toboso, Alvarez's prized stallion?"_

_"Yes," Alejandro answered, "That's that one."_

_"Then I'm afraid you can kiss her goodbye," she told him. "I have beaten you to it. Or in other words, I've pipped you at the post."_

_"You've bought her?"_

_"Yes, this afternoon," she said in a gentle smile. "You see, Don Alejandro, one of the keys to success in business is quick decision-making. Or rather, the subtle balance between time of reflexion and rapidity of decision. More haste means less speed..."_

_"I purchase it from you," Alejandro decided. "I'm sure we can agree on a fair price, Señora."_

_"Thank you, but no. I like this mare, as you said she's beautiful."_

_"Oh please, Doña Araceli," he retorted, "we all know you're usually more subtle than this, if I may say so." He smiled knowingly. "You're just trying to make the price rise... Would I dare say I've known you to be more straightforward?"_

_This time, he was openly grinning, sure as he was to have uncovered her ploy._

_"As you said so yourself Don Alejandro," she answered, "I am both more subtle and more straightforward in conducting business." She smiled at him to soften the graze. "The mare is truly not for sale. I've not bought her to make business on her; for once I've bought something for myself, just because such is my wish. In fact, I've paid it on my privy purse. I'm keeping her, sorry."_

_"What happened to 'never lose an occasion to make a good deal', may I ask?" Alejandro tried again._

_She laughed heartily._

_"It didn't fall on deaf ears, it seems! But sorry, I really want to ride this horse," she replied with an amused glint in her eyes. "But let's make a deal: in some time, you might send here the stallion of your choice for servicing her, and their first foal is for you. For free. That's my offer: do you take it or do you leave it?"_

_Alejandro considered it. He quickly calculated: the foal would just be ready to be broken and trained when Diego returns... It could make a nice present for him!_

_"Doña Araceli," he finally said, grinning, "it seems we are going to have a foal together!"_


End file.
